A Lion and a Dragon
by TheHoneyBadgerNight
Summary: Diana Targaryen weds Tywin Lannister, and all of Westeros hears the roar of fire and blood. AU, Targaryen OC, eventual Lannister Kingship, super sporadic updating
1. Chapter 1

The first time Tywin Lannister met his betrothed was the just beyond the Lion's Mouth, she had stepped out of a silver carriage the color of her hair, swathed in a crimson gown with dragons dancing at the hem. Her eyes were not the lilac of her sister, Rhaella, but a dark purple, the color of royalty. "Presenting: her grace, the Princess Rhaella the house Targaryen of Dragonstone, and her grace, the Princess Diana of the house Targaryen of King's Landing." The crown princess had wed her elder brother, Aerys the year before, Tywin frowned remembering the lavish gifts his father, Tytos, had given to the couple for their wedding. The royal family had no need of golden saddles too gaudy to ever actually use, not to mention the twenty thousand dragons the Lannister's had shelled out to travel with such a large retinue from Casterly Rock to King's Landing, stopping at every inn along the way. The wedding seemed more of a funeral, the prince was charming, but flattered easily, which made him easy for Tywin to befriend when he was but a squire.

Diana Targaryen was a maid of sixteen, two years younger than himself, but she came to his chin only, he noticed. Both princesses had small tiaras in their hair, with shining red rubies, Rhaella's had a slightly larger center stone. As the Lannister household bowed before the royals who had arrived as representatives of the royal family for his sister's name day feast, Twin stared down the younger sister. Rumour had it that Diana was the favorite grandchild of King Aegon the fifth, mainly because she was rumoured to have dragon dreams as they were called, the same that her ancestor Daenys the Dreamer had. This favoritism made Diana and Aerys rivals, so the decision had been made that it was time for Diana to be wed, and her father had sent her to the tourney to choose a husband out of the nobles, preferably a great lord or an heir of one.

"Your majesties." Tywin said politely, bowing once more for good measure. "On behalf of house Lannister, I welcome you and offer you the hospitality of Casterly Rock."

"Thank you, Lord Lannister." Rhaella offered in reply, "We are weary from our travels, but are happy to celebrate your sister's twelfth name day."

"Where is your father?" Diana asked, scrutinizing gaze unyielding. "He is the Lord of house Lannister, is he not?"

Tywin wished to snarl in outrage, but refrained due to the fact that he was addressing a princess, not a cheeky servant. "He would have been here to meet you, your highness, but is in talks with Lord Frey of the Crossings." Talks of trade, he assumed.

A frown marred her regal features, but she said nothing. "If you would follow me, princesses." Tywin stated, "I can show you to your rooms." The maids had been making up rooms overlooking the Sunset sea for the past week, the finer rooms saved for the more important guests.

Once the princesses were settled in their rooms, Twin walked through the Rock and into the inner hallways, where the lord's chambers and those of his family were. His rooms were next to Kevan's, followed by Tygett and Gerion, who were still in the nursery, with Gemma's sharing a wall with his parent's, whose door was directly across from his. The welcoming feast was set to begin in a few hours, with the lord of the Stormlands, the Prince of Dorne, half of the Westerlands and a few minor lords and hedge knights from various kingdoms hoping to curry favor all in attendance. He made quick work of changing into finer clothing, befitting the heir of the Westerlands. His father had been slowly giving more and more of lordship responsibilities to him, using the excuse of practice for Tywin to allow his father to whore and gamble.

He had just finished adjusting his scarlet tunic with a roaring lion on the breast when a knock resounded, "Enter." He stated plainly, walking towards the table with wine upon it. His black pants tucked into fresh leather boots, which he had yet to completely break in. To his surprise, a handmaiden he did not recognise entered, followed by Princess Diana.

"Your grace," He said formally, bowing just enough to be respectful, "What can I do for you?" He had left her not two hours ago.

"I went to see your father, but his page made it clear that he was not to be disturbed in the south tower, and that you were acting lord, should anyone need anything, you have full authority. Is that true?" Diana asked plainly, smirking in amusement when the rage flashed in his eyes. Twin knew what his father did in the south tower, or rather with whom. The whore who wore his mother's jewels resided there, drinking casks of Arbour gold with his father, had he even met with Lord Frey first? It appeared as though Diana knew as well.

"That is correct." Twin ground out, "What do you need, Princess?" His brows furrowed as her handmaiden silently handed him a sealed scroll, the three headed dragon seal unbroken.

He read the letter once, twice, thrice. The King had written to his father, seeking a betrothal of his heir with the princess. There were several stipulations included, written in a more feminine scrawl embedded as well, a lady of house Lannister would become her handmaiden, a woman the princess would choose during her stay, a lower tax rate would be given between the crownlands and the westerlands for the first five years of Diana's marriage, and her dowry would include enough grain to get them through the winter that was fast approaching. The letter ended with a simple note that should the offer not be accepted, Diana was welcome to present the same terms to another suitor of her choice, a veiled threat should he refuse. "You knew of this?" Twin asked, frowning when he saw her grin.

"I selected you, the servants whisper of how the little lord holds more power than the laughing lion." Diana laughed when he saw the rage dancing in his eyes, "Tywin, you are shrewd, something your father is not. He will wed his children to the first person to ask to curry favor, imagine if a tourney winner asked for your sister's hand? What would your father do then?"

Twin wished to say that his father would kill any man beneath his sister who asked for her hand, but he knew that he was not his father. "What do you mean, you selected me?" Was all Tywin would respond with.

"My father had only one request of who I would wed, that I select from his list of suitors." Diana replied honestly, "Should you not accept, I shall see if my cousin Steffon can break his betrothal with the Estermont girl to make me Lady of Storm's End instead."

They stared at each other for a moment, a princess and a Lord. "Why me? Why not Prince Mors Martell, or Steffon Baratheon?" Both men were already at the Rock, the Prince there with his elder sister, Rhaella's handmaiden if he remembered correctly. Tywin had a few ideas as to why the princess chose him as a potential betrothed, but wished to hear it from her own mouth.

"You are a death away from being the second most powerful man in the seven kingdoms. Prince Mors is not the heir, Princess Elia is. And I think Steffon actually loves that Cassana girl." She replied matter-of-factly, "My brother bears no sisterly love for myself or Rhaella, and proven so time and time again, he speaks as if he wished to be the next Aegon the Conqueror or Maegor the Cruel. Rhaella is mindful of her duty though, I know an heir will be produced soon enough. So I must do my duty as well, wed and have heirs." Her tone when describing her own blood was cold and sharp as steel. Both kings had taken two wives, and were none too gentle with them either.

"And what would gain by being Lady of Casterly Rock? I am the Lord." Tywin knew that his father did not have to die in order for his wife to become Lady, Gemma had been trying to take on the role in the past few years, but was still too young.

"You will be the Lord." Diana chided, "I am a Princess of the Iron throne, a feat bought with fire and blood, yet we have destroyed both. My Grandfather agrees that the practice of marrying brother to sister must come to an end, but allowed my father to marry my siblings." Her purple eyes flashed, "In an attempt to make up the betrayal of beliefs, he has given me the right to choose my husband, while my father insists he be of noble birth. If I am to share my bed with anyone who is not a dragon, it might as well be a lion."

She was blunt, but her logic was sound, and a Targaryen had not wed into house Lannister or vice versa in generations, it would also show the crown's favor to the lions. "I shall have my Maester draft up the betrothal contract."

AN:

Thanks for reading! This is my first ASOIAF fic, I aged up the plot line a bit. For those curious as to why, the event at Gemma's seventh name day in canon will be used in the next chapter.

Aerys is 18, Rhaella is 17, and Diana is 16. They were conceived in rapid order due to Jaehaerys II wishing to have ample heirs after the Blackfyre Rebellion decimated his extended family. A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Princess Diana, you are Queen Visenya come again!" Tytos Lannister spoke as if he had met her ancestor. She smiled politely and thanked him demurely, her sister's words from earlier in the forefront of her mind, ' _You are a princess, Di. Remember your duty.'_

Remember your duty, was she not doing her duty by binding herself to the most powerful house outside of their own? Rhaella had been wed for almost three moons, yet still she remained barren. Her father seemed as if he regretted wedding his only son to his elder daughter, but was ever mindful of the prophecy of the woods witch. How can the prince that was promised come from a line that had yet to yield a child? If Aerys had no trueborn children, her son would inherit the throne. But Aerys would set Rhaella a side, and call it duty, before he ever gave her the satisfaction of rising above him in rank, even if his death were to cause it. The siblings had never gotten along.

"I thank you, my lord. You have been a most generous host, and I am happy to be celebrating more than just Lady Gemma's name day." Diana replied, repressing a smirk at his confused expression. It was the middle of the feast, and she had been waiting for the ever late Lord Walder Frey hobble in, the last of the lords to arrive.

Tytos took a deep swig from his glass of wine, the third one by her count in just as many courses, she noticed he emptied his plates as well as his glasses. Before he had a chance to question her further, Tywin stood, his steely gaze sweeping over the hall until it was silent. Diana had to admit, for a man of barely eighteen, Tywin had a presence that commanded attention and respect. Diana grinned to herself, he was to be her Lord husband, and was about to tell half the realm.

"My lords and ladies, tonight we not only celebrate my sweet sister, Gemma's name day and the tourney in her honor to follow, tonight we celebrate the unification of two great houses." Whispers erupted like wild fire, but another sweep of his gaze and they were silent once more. Tytos was staring bewildered at his heir, "The Princess Diana has accepted my offer for her hand in marriage. The Targaryen princess shall be the next Lady of the Rock." Diana was staring in mock affection at Tywin, ensuring the court's enthusiasm at the news. From the corner of her gaze, she watched Tytos speaking furiously with his son, Tywin's face was blank, but his father seemed about to burst with excitement, but was scolding his son for not telling him sooner.

"You were in the tower, Father." Tywin said levelly. The lord of Lannister had his whore sitting at a lower table, with minor Westerland lords who kissed her rings to get good merits with their liege lord.

"What a wonderful day for betrothals, Lord Lannister." Walder Frey spoke, his rickety form surrounded by a few of his brood, his first and second sons included. "Perhaps in honor of Lady Gemma's name day, she and my son Emmon would make a wonderful match."

Diana watched her betrothed bristle visibly next to her, his rage palpable. "I'm so sorry, my lord." Diana replied softly, "But Lady Gemma shall be entering my service, and betrothed to a Lord or heir of my choosing, not a second son. She is a bride of the Rock after all, and my future good sister." Her voice held a simper to it, but there were those around them stifling laughter at the slight the princess directed towards the Lord of the Twins, his son was not worthy of her family, even by marriage.

Tywin was staring at her, shock clearly visible. Gemma, from further down the table, looked as if she were about to cry. "Thank you, your grace!" She said, and quickly added, "I would be happy to enter your service, as my cousin Johanna is in your sister's." Diana faked a smile then, Johanna Lannister was a nice enough woman, but she had caught her brother's eye. If Rhaella was not with child soon, he may proctor a mistress.

"You put the stipulation of a handmaiden in your betrothal contract." Tywin accused, "And spoke of a hedge knight or second son asking for my sister's hand." His green eyes glinted into her purple, he was onto her.

Good. He was not a complete fool then. "The Master of Whispers may have bent my ear when heard of my upcoming betrothal." Lord Frey had been hauling his ever growing group of eligible descendants across Westeros, and Emmon had already been bragging about his Lannister bride to be to those around him.

"When shall the wedding be?" Gemma questioned, she was seated between her father and brother, in a seat of honor since it was her name day. "Will the king be there?"

"In six moon turns." Diana estimated, "We'll need to prepare, send out announcements and invitations. And most likely, my Lord grandfather has spoken of wishing to see Casterly Rock."

Across the table, Rhaella watched her sister interact with her soon to be family. "It shall be lovely, I am sure."

Diana smiled at her sibling, "You must help me pick out fabrics for my wedding gown." She had helped her with Rhaella's own, and Diana remembered how Rhaella cried when she first saw herself, Diana was never truly sure if those were tears of joy, sorrow or both.

Her sister only nodded in response. They made light conversation with those around them, both Tywin and Diana thanking those who came over to congratulate them. Diana drank a goblet of wine, then another, as the night progressed, until the liquor made her sleepy. She excused herself before the men got too far into their cups, although Lord Tytos was already deeply invested into his. Knowing she would get lost attempting to navigate the bowels of the Rock, Tywin offered to escort her to her chambers.

"Thank you." Tywin rumbled softly, surprising her at the door to her chambers. "For saving Gemma from a landless lord."

Diana could have laughed with relief, he had seemed upset before, as if she had overstepped. "You're welcome, my lord." She responded, and slipped into her room.

Her handmaiden, Alyssa Velaryon, had followed discreetly behind her princess and entered her chambers a few moments after. She made quick work of Diana's complicated updo of twists and braids, before brushing it out and plaiting it back. Alyssa undid the overtly tight laces of Diana's gown and gathered up the soiled silks, leaving her in just a shift. "That'll be all, Alyssa. Thank you."

"My princess." She responded softly, and the door clicked shut behind her. Diana walked to the door and bolted it. Peeling back the red sheets on her bed, Diana lay against the featherbed.

"Lady Diana Lannister of Casterly Rock...no, Princess Diana Lannister of the house Targaryen, Lady of Casterly Rock." She murmured to herself as she fell asleep.

A/N:

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Tywin never understood the necessity for participating in a tourney, he was the heir to Casterly Rock, not a hedge night or third born son. So he sat in the main stands, watching his father drink himself into an early grave, his whore upon his lap, growing ever bolder with every year his mother remains in the dirt. His brother, Gerion, was only sixteen, but was happy to joust in the name of house Lannister. He had made it into the final tilts, beating the heirs of Westerling a few Freys hoping to earn a bag of coin. Yet now he was to go against Gregor Clegane, the son of the man who had saved his father from a lioness when he was but a babe in the cradle. Tytos had given the man some land for his son and his son's son, Gregor junior, who had just been born a few moon turns ago. Clegane's keep was but a days ride away, and Lord Gregor wished to earn favor of his lord the way his father had before him. Shame the only lioness around was dear Gemma.

"Clegane is as much a dog as the sigil of his house." Steffon Baratheon commented, as a cousin of the princesses and a lord paramount himself, he was allowed to sit in the main box with house Lannister. "I'd bet a few hundred dragons on the beast."

"Two hundred dragons on my future good brother." Diana spoke demurely, as if it were every day a princess participated in bets. "Gerion is young, but as feisty as his sigil. Two turns, no more, and Gerion will be the victor." It was oddly specific, and Princess Rhaella seemed to pale at her sister's words. Was there a plot afoot? Tywin watched his betrothed and future good sister whisper softly to each other, attempting to glean the words being spoken. Perhaps it was her keen intuition that allowed the rumours of dragon dreams to manifest about the princess.

"Begin!" Tytos shouted, raising his wine glass as if to wave the combatants along, when he was merely asking for another glass of arbour gold brought by the Redwynes as a gift for the tourney.

Gerion and Gregor lowered their lances in sync as the horses trotted forward, the wooden blocks slamming into each others shoulders, enough to bruise the skin and splinter the wood, yet both riders remained a horse. Fresh lances were presented, and Tytos shouted yet another, "Begin!" The riders rushed forward, and Gregor Clegane went flying from his horse, biting into dust and dirt. Proclaimed the victor, Gerion unseated himself from his own horse and went to help his defeated opponent to his feet. The crowd roared at the act of chivalry.

"It seems you have a keen eye, my princess." Steffon lamented, "I shall bring you your dragons to the feast tonight." Diana only grinned, her purple eyes a light.

A squire brought forth a crown of red roses with golden thread interwoven into it, and rode up to the Lannister box. Gemma was as red as her crown as she was presented the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. "Your majesty." Gerion spoke with a flourished bow, grinning at his sister, who had never received the title before.

With the Queen of Love and Beauty crowned, and the victors rewarded, everyone slowly made their way back into the castle from the tourney grounds, for Gemma's name day feast. Diana never understood why one needed to extend name day celebrations for so long, when Aerys turned sixteen, and officially reached the age of adulthood, the celebrations had lasted an entire week! While the coffers may be full, why bother with such a waste? Hopefully his betrothed would not believe herself to be able to spend as she pleased, princess or no.

Tywin escorted his betrothed on his arm, ever mindful of the rumor mill that was spewing forth with so many nobles in one place, Diana seemed at ease though, having grown up in court. "My lord, I have been thinking." Diana began, "If we were to hold the wedding in Summerhall in ten moons time, my grandfather was already planning a grand feast there. So the costs could be split between the royal family and yours."

Tywin felt the corners of his mouth rise, "How frugal of you, my lady." Did she wish to ensure her family was there, or the whole kingdom? Not many nobles would travel all the way to Summerhall for a feast, but a wedding they would. "But no bride of the Rock has ever been wed outside of the great sept overlooking the Sunset sea. The view at sunset is quite striking, I've been told."

"Have you never visited your own sept?" Diana quipped, amusement dancing in features as they maneuvered through the halls of Casterly Rock. Tywin was sure that she had waited for him to escort her not just to keep up appearances, but also due to the fact that a servant had to be fetch the lost princess, who was twenty minutes late to breaking her fast because she had gotten lost attempting to find the great hall.

"I do not keep with the Seven, but I have visited the sept before on formal occasions. At sunset, however, was something Gemma remarked." His sister was a more faithful believer than him, no matter if she only prayed because her septa brought her to the sept once a day, more if she misbehaved. His sister often complained of how the virtues of the maiden was all her septa ever talked about, that and even stitching.

"I'm sure it will be lovely." Diana offered, "Lannisport is known for it's fine colored glass, the sept is decorated with it, correct?" Tywin smiled at that, the glass was actually imported from Lys, but Lannisport was the only dock in all of Westeros to ship in something so delicate. It had been Tywin's idea.

"Yes, my lady." Tywin replied, "A great storm destroyed the previous glass, and one wall is mainly just that, so when it was replaced, we opted to use colored glass."

"Diana." She said, "My name is Diana, although everyone seems to think it's your highness, but you are to be my Lord husband after all." Her silvery hair was down today, with little crystals glinting in the light, her fingers played with a strand absent mindedly. The princess seemed to be bashful one moment and overtly confident the next. It was as if she were a mummer who was not sure of the character she was meant to play. There was Princess Diana, who put lesser lords in their place and held her head high and then there was just Diana, the maid of sixteen unsure of what part she was meant to portray.

"Diana." Tywin tasted her name on his tongue, the last Targaryen with that name had been Dyanna Dayne, who had wed to King Maekar, yet died before she ever became queen. Yet Tywin had discovered that she was given the Andal spelling of the name, rather than the Valyrian, a choice stirring quite a few whispers at court, or so he had been told. As a second daughter, it was known she would not likely marry the next king, so many proposed it meant she was meant to wed into an Andal household, which she now was. "Are you going to be leaving with your sister to return to King's Landing at the end of the sent night?" As his betrothed, it would not be scandalous if she were to stay until the wedding, but she could also wish to see her family once more before her wedding.

"I shall stay." Diana replied, "My siblings need time together, and your sister has offered to help me learn to be the Lady of house Lannister." And not get lost attempting to fulfill the role, Tywin thought with a smirk. Tywin had heard of Aerys's wishes for an heir, his old friend had spoken of it in his letters, yet had failed to mention that his sister would become Tywin's bride.

"I assume your family is pleased with your betrothal?" Tywin asked, watching her face closely as the thought over her words.

"My grandfather shall be pleased, I've no doubts. A lion is the only one who can match the ferocity of a dragon, he said, except perhaps a wolf." Amusement danced on her features, her Valyrian beauty shining through. "But Rickard Stark is a bit too...wild for my tastes." Thee south's view of the barbaric north were well known, and no Targaryen had ever been a Queen of Winter or a Lady of Winterfell, fire melts ice.

"I do not believe the cold would suit you, my lady." Tywin responded, warily noting that the great hall was quickly approaching, and his father's page was searching, presumably for him. Jon Tarbeck was a young lad of twelve, who approached him quickly and gave a quick bow.

"My lord, your father requests that you and the Princess Diana join him at the head table as soon as I found you." Jon spoke with a shaking voice, where Tytos did not have teeth, his son seemed to inherit duel sets.

"Thank you, Jon." Tywin said dismissively, and guided Diana onward. Tytos was sitting, deep into his cups when the first course had yet to be served, bulging belly bouncing with laughter from a lick spittle before him, a Westerling.

"My boy!" Tytos called, and Tywin resisted the urge to openly glare at his father. "Lord Westerling has the most exciting business opportunity!"

The lord in question seemed to begin to sweat when he locked eyes with his liege lord's heir. "How much is it this time?" He ground out, and noted Diana's frown.

"Ten thousand dragons, my lord." Lord Westerling replied shakily, "To invest further in the mines of the Crag to increase trade."

"I did not realize that the mines were still active." Diana interjected, "Were they not depleted?" Or sold to neighboring keeps, Tywin added silently.

"Their production has slowed, but not halted completely." Gawain Westerling responded.

"And what is the interest on the loan? Surely if the mine is not producing enough to support itself, pouring money into it is not wise." Diana queried, her eyes alight, watching the lord cower under her scrutiny.

"Yes...well…" Gawain trailed off.

"How about this instead, Lady Sybell Spicer is in need of a husband, her dowry can be covered by house Lannister, which should pay for the mine." Diana offered, "If my betrothed and future good father agree, that is."

Tywin stared at her for a moment, for Tytos to take back the deal agreed would only make him look weaker than he already appeared by loaning out money that would not be returned. To form a marriage alliance between two houses, and with house Spicer, those rich but low born, was a perfect way to save face. "I agree, you and Lady Spicer may even wed in the upcoming days to my own, it is customary for smaller weddings to take place, and the week long celebrations will end with the main wedding ceremony. I trust that is enough time to send the ravens to those necessary?"

While Diana at least mentioned his father, Tywin did not even spare the drunken fool a glance, and Lord Westerling simply nodded, his newly betrothed was at least a member of a rich family, spice trader ancestors or no.

Tywin sat next to his betrothed as the feast began, grinning to himself. Why bow to a dragon when one can make others bow to you?

A/N:

Thanks to those who reviewed, followed and favorited. There's a little Easter egg for Nekaper, who asked why Diana's name wasn't spelled Dyanna, there will also be a bigger tie in later in the story about it, but for now I'm laying ground work. I do not have a Beta currently, so sorry for any errors. If anyone would like to be my Beta, please let me know in a review.


	4. Chapter 4

Rhaella was fierce with an embroidery needle, making quick even stitches. Diana watched with envy, while hers were just as straight and small, she only worked at half her sister's speed. Twas the last night the two would share together before Rhaella returned for Diana's wedding to Tywin. The princess was happy enough with the match, but was unsure on how to proceed from there. She had dreamt of the snarling lion for ages, since she was a child she dreamed of herself ascending the steps to the Iron Throne, and when she took her seat there was a large golden beast snapping his teeth at anyone who dared approach, to dare question her rule. Diana knew not to share her dreams with anyone, not since she was nine. Aerys had just turned twelve, and they were playing "Come into my Castle," and she proudly proclaimed herself the Queen of Westeros, and Aerys had told her that he was the King, and would marry a beautiful maiden one day who would be the queen, not her. Childhood made a fool of the girl, and she stubbornly said that she would sit upon the Iron Throne, and not him. Aerys had began to swing his fake sword at her, the wood beating down on her arms as she tried to shield herself. "Upsurper!" He had snarled at her. She ran to her grandfather, tears in her eyes and bruises quickly forming, worrying the king greatly. "You are a Dragon," He told her, "Fire made flesh, and fire does not cower, it burns."

From then on, Aegon was the only one she told her dreams to, of Jenny bringing a strange woman to court, of the baby crying with the smell of salt in the air and smoke in her lungs with a woman in a bed of blood, who would win a tourney, and the like. Some were vauge, but others crystal clear, such as when she dreamed of a maiden of golden hair and green eyes weeping before the statue of the maiden, begging the goddess to save her from the fate of marrying a second son. That was a more recent dream, that began soon after word of the tourney in Lannisport reached court. Her grandfather thought her simply an intuitive child, but the woods witch is who made her grandfather believe in dragon dreams.

"You have the sight, child." The wood witch was a large woman, brought by her uncle's wife. "But you do not see with your eyes open."

Rhaella seemed to sense what Diana was thinking about, "You need to stop dreaming, Di. You are to be a Lady wife soon, you must do your duty." The crown princess was always mindful of duty, a word Diana wished someone would provide her sister a synonym to use so she would not have to suffer the word for so long and so often.

"I cannot stop a dream anymore than I can keep a bird from flying, than I can keep a river from flowing." Diana bit back, staring at her needlework instead of her sister. The roaring lion of Lannister stared back at her, golden thread sharp against the black silk. Her personal sigil, or so she was planning, a golden lion on a black field.

"Then stop listening to them." Rhaella pleaded, putting her half finished flower aside, she had stopped embroidering dragons onto anything since her wedding, Diana noticed.

"And if I told you I dreamed of your son?" Diana asked, her tone sharp.

Rhaella recoiled as if Diana had struck her, "I'm to have a son?" The fear and relief in her eyes made Diana nod, and Rhaella could feel her eyes began to tear. "I shall give Aerys an heir."

"He shall be small, but strong." Diana had started dreaming of it a few months after her sister's wedding. The woman with silver hair weeping over her screaming child, the maester speaking words she cannot hear. In that dream she sees what her sister does, the smell of salt from her own tears and smoke that burns her lungs, but the emotion felt is only utter joy.

"Thank you, Di." Rhaella murmured, "If it is just a dream, it is a beautiful dream to have." Diana only smiled.

"I should be going." Diana replied, and gathered her silks before heading back to her room.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

It had been five moons since Diana and her sister had parted, and one more until they would see each other. One small letter was set before her in her personal rooms in the Rock, a hallway away from Tywin and his family's personal quarters. Rhaella was always mindful of eyes and ears, choosing to speak of trivialities in her letter, embedding true information within.

 _My Dearest Sister,_

 _I'm so happy to hear that Casterly Rock suites you, you will make a lovely Lady Lannister. I shall see you soon sister, and look forward to your wedding. While the marriage bed can be a trouble, marriage is what cements any alliance. How is Lady Gemma? Does she still hold a distaste for fish? Too bad if so, we recently received quite the catch._

 _There is something else I should tell you, dear Diana. Dreams do come true, Aerys could not be more pleased, and I have begun to sew dragons._

 _Love always,_

 _Rhaella Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone_

Diana smiled, Aerys had been visiting her bed often, and was never too soft on her sister, but a child had been put on Rhaella. If only Hoster Tully hadn't of been so gruff with Gemma. Diana had been playing matchmaker as of late, after hearing of her work with Sybel Spicer becoming Lady Westerling, and of Gemma's marriage prospects being based on her choice, Diana had received many a visitor. Hoster had recently became Lord of his house, and wished for a bride with great influence, but Gemma could not even stand the taste of fish, let alone the thought of bedding one. Diana had wished for Luthor Tyrell, but Olenna Redwyne had snatched him up before a raven could have even been sent. It was a shame, Gemma could have soothed the trouble her family had from her mother marrying her father instead of lord Tyrell. He had a brother, but Diana did not keep Gemma from marrying one second son only to wed another.

A knock resounded on the door, and she called for them to enter the solar.

"Brightheart." Tywin stated matter-of-factly, "The small folk have started to call you the bright heart, others the light of the west. What have you done?" He was not angry, but there was a queer look in his eye.

"I helped facilitate the marriage between Leo Lefford and Dorna Swyft, visited several orphanages and personally handed out bread, and then I went to the sept. And to think, you left for a few weeks." Diana replied with a smile, Tywin had asked her to keep an eye on his father while he rode to deal with some problems at the Golden Tooth.

"You are winning over the Westerlands quite well." Tywin acquiesced, the lords he had thought to win through fear, as his father was too lax in his ruling. Perhaps Diana was just who he needed as a Lady wife, a woman to soften the edges of those who cowered before him. Fear would keep his bannerman in line, while respect and favors owed would keep them loyal to his family. By arranging marriages, Diana was playing a hand in alliances, increasing loyalty between his bannermen to each other and to his house.

"And soon, they shall learn who is the sword, and who is the shield." Diana replied simply, "I shall be the merciful maiden, and you the wicked warrior."

A/N:

Time jump to the wedding next chapter! From there, there will be a few more jumps, a few months at a time. Kudos to those who figure out why Diana wanted the wedding at Summerhall


	5. Chapter 5

Tywin stood tall and proud, his crimson doublet embroidered with little snarling lions, so fine and intricate, one would think his shirt were only black with red glimpses, with dark pants and boots. He was the next lord of Casterly Rock, and he looked the part. He stood at the feet of the Father and the Mother, staring up expectantly at the looming steps that his betrothed would descend to become his Lady wife. The wedding party had been fully assembled a few minutes prior, the King and his family were seated by the mother, as was custom for the bride's family. King Aegon the fifth was rumoured to be a sweet man, and Diana viewed him through a softer lense, and bent his description to that of a loving grandfather and just ruler. Yet there was a restlessness about him, the way he kept checking the exits as if he were fearful of someone bursting in.

The king even jumped when the doors opened, but all Tywin could see is the panes of colored glass illuminating Diana in a glow of reds, golds and blues. Her dress was all white silk, embroidered with golden threads of a lion sitting proud on the hem on her skirts, a dragon curled around the legs of the great beast. Her silver hair was pulled up in a series of twists and turns, golden bells tinkling with each step, ruby hair pins glinting in the light, she was a vision, and she was his.

She all but floated down the steps, red slippers dipping from her skirts. Her father, Prince Jaehaerys the second, stood slightly out of sight after leading his daughter to the alter. He stayed close for when he would take his daughter's maiden cloak and return to his seat where his two other children awaited him. Aerys glared daggers at his old friend, ignoring his lovely wife with a swollen belly, the green in his eyes was unmistakable. Tywin told himself to ignore the crown prince's heir, and focus on Diana. Her breathing was shallow, and Tywin wondered if her corset was too tight or if she was nervous.

The Septon began to drone on about the blessings and virtues of marriage, but Tywin only responded when he was supposed to. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The crown prince stepped forward and removed the three headed dragon from his daughter's shoulders. Tytos stepped forward then, and handed his son a crimson cloak with a golden lion, that Tywin in turn draped across Diana. The Septon bound their hands with a white bolt of cloth, and they repeated him in unison, "Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Smith, Warrior, Stranger, I am his/hers and s/he is mine."

The Septon was a bulbous man, with a balding head and toothy smile. He grinned and proclaimed, "I now pronounce you lord husband and lady wife, may the stranger take any who try to tear them asunder!" The two leaned forward, kissing softly. There was no love shared between the two, despite being around each other for many moons, but there was a respect that could be cultivated, perhaps it would be love one day.

Tywin kept his Lady wife's hand even after the strip of cloth had been removed, and turned the audience. Diana was staring with a beaming smile at her family. Lady Jenny and Prince Duncan, Rhaella and Aerys, Queen Betha and King Aegon, along with a few darker haired cousins of varying Valyrian looks. Like the Lannisters, the Targaryens had a few cadet branches, but the Targaryens had waned over the years, producing mainly daughters who wed into other lines, while the royal family kept to marrying in whenever possible.

"Lady wife." Tywin said softly, enjoying the blush that crossed her face. Sometimes he forgot she had yet to reach her seventeenth name day, which was fastly approaching.

"Lord husband." Diana replied with a grin, watching the great houses around them mingle. The only lord paramount who was not there was Rickard Stark, who had sent a raven stating that his own wedding was planned for a few weeks after her own, and travel would not permit him to attend both. He had sent a lovely breeding pair of strong northern shire horses through Lord Manderly, who was in attendance. Tywin was pleased with the northerner for such a practical gift, and the possible trade that would ensue from studding out the male to various houses. Not to mention the foals once grown would make excellent packing horses.

The wedding feast was a lively one, with the Redwynes bringing casks of Arbour Gold as their wedding gift. Small folk and nobles alike waited to gift the next Lord and Lady of the Westerlands, something that surprised Tywin. The people of Lannisport had come to adore Diana in a way no Lannister had been able to earn. She did not just throw money at the poor, or offer them her prayers, she was personable. The frequent visits to the port town had yielded the love of the people, Lady Brightheart, they called her.

The Tyrells gave Diana a multitude of dresses in the style of the Reach, and lacking in modesty. The Baratheons gave the couple a set of fine quills and other tools to write, along with various colors of wax: gold, red and black. Diana beamed at her cousin, and promised to write to him with the set. Tywin enjoyed watching her work with those around her, she used the same care talking to Ser Steffon that she did the withered crone who walked up next. "Lord and Lady Lannister, I have spent many a moon preparing this." Two men stood behind her, the shared features naming them most likely her grandsons, "For Lady Brightheart" she murmured, and a banner of rough spun black wool hung upon the piece of wood they used to back it, a golden lion prancing upon it.

He turned to look at Diana when he heard her surprised gasp, her purple eyes were wide and tearing up. "Oh, Jeyne…" Diana knew the old crone? Her skirts swished as Tywin watched her descend the platform the high table was on, and motion her head handmaiden forward, Alyssa, who pulled a small pouch of what he assumed to be gold. "It's beautiful!" Diana gushed, "How did you know?"

The old woman laughed, "When you would visit Nina, you were always looking for black bolts and golden threads." Who was Nina? Diana moved forward to hand her the coin Alyssa transferred to her, but Jeyne would not accept it. "I cannot accept payment for a gift!"

Diana surprised him in that moment, she curtseyed before the old crone. "Thank you, Jeyne." When she returned to her seat, Tywin bent to her ear, as if to kiss her cheek, but whispered before he did, "Why did that crone give you a banner?"

The valyrian beauty grinned at him, "My personal sigil, I have been attempting to sew it for months, but one uneven stitch and the whole piece would be ruined, so when I visited Lannisport, I started stopping at a small shop that was rumoured to have the brightest threads, and it is run by a seamstress named Nina, Jeyne's daughter. Soon word got out that the princess had begun to shop there, and they now have to double their stock to meet the demands." Ah, so that was how she was winning the love of the middle class as well, the merchants and small folk both loved her because of how she used her coin personally. To know the wife of their future liege lord was shopping somewhere would draw others there to curry favor.

The gifts continued, and the nobles seemed to be slightly displeased that Diana took such special care with a peasant's gift and only thanked them for their own. "My lady," Tywin began as the gift givers finally dwindled, "I want you to plan sewing sessions and luncheons with a few of our banner men's wives and daughters, you shall need to start establishing your household, ensure pages, squires and handmaidens from varying houses to keep ties tight. They laugh at my father, they will not laugh at us."

He noted that Diana liked the way he said ours and us, she was of the same mind when it came to the game of thrones, power meant everything. "Of course, my Lord husband."

A/N:

Hey guys, I'm floored with the amount of readers ALAAAD is getting! Heads up, this era in cannon is kind of murky when it comes to who rules what when, so I try to look up accurate names as often as possible. But with the minor houses-such as Clegane-it does not say any names. So for Lord Clegane, there was no name for him, so I went with Gregor. The baby mentioned before, I dubbed him Gregor Jr. Gregor Junior is the Mountain, who is a babe in the cradle. Also, should Diana prevent Sandor from becoming the Hound, or maybe take him as a cup bearer after he is hurt? It wouldn't happen for a few chapters, but just a thought. Let me know in a review what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Diana could not help but be pleased to find her husband as much of a maiden as she was on their wedding night. He had kissed her with a fury, but his hands wandered her body with unsure hands. Tywin touched her with a possessiveness and wide eyed wonder that she not expected, his fingertips gripped into her hips when he entered her for the first time. The gasp of pain that escaped her was expected, the finality of it was not. She was a Lannister now, her marriage sealed and consummated. He took her on his bed, staring down at her with a lust she had never seen in his eyes before. Tywin Lannister was eighteen, with the hands of a man who knew both swords and quills, with the rough callouses and gentle caresses. When he finished in her she prayed to the seven for a child, an heir that would please her husband and give the bannermen no reason to suspect her of being barren, as her sister was. Diana silenced the rumours then as much as she could, but gossiping chamber maids had lead to a weeping Rhaella more than once.

Tywin was not one for coddling, but he kept his arm around Diana's waist as they lay in their marriage bed. One of her father's servants would be along soon, she had no doubt, to collect the blood stained sheets. The royal retinue would be leaving soon, heading to Summerhall for a grand party her grandfather had planned, it had been announced as a celebration of Rhaella's pregnancy. Diana knew better, her grandfather had been speaking of dragons the past few years. At thirteen, Diana had loved listening to the stories of Visenya and Rhaenys, and the dragons they rode. But as she grew tired of the stories, her grandfather became more enamored. The wood's witch that her uncle's wife-Jenny, while a lovely woman, was a commoner, and it would be improper for Diana to ever refer to her as an aunt-brought to court had given many accurate predictions, things Diana could only glimpse of in a dream. She had sold the tale of the Prince who was promised, and how he would be born of her sister and brother's line. Diana scorned the wood's witch for that alone, dooming her sister to such a fate. Summerhall was in Dorne, but since most major houses were in Casterly Rock already, half of her wedding party would be sailing to Summerhall. Her cousin, Steffon was supposed to be among them, but a raven had arrived that his brother had recently been injured, and he was needed in Storm's End.

Diana was not sure why Summerhall gave her such a bad feeling, but it was one she could not shake. Tywin was already snoozing beside her when Diana finally fell asleep.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

The candle maker's daughter served as Tytos's whore, Diana soon learned that her name was Megga, not that she ever called the whore by her name. The woman had helped herself to the Lady of the Rock's jewels, and had the audacity to wear the largest stone, a ruby the size of a palm, set in a snarling lion's mouth, to the grand hall as she and Tywin broke their fast. It was an act of defiance, Diana had gotten her good father keep into his cups by having a servant constantly refilling his goblet, and then waited until the lord was distracted at the wedding breakfast to order a few Targaryen guards to stand watch at the entrance of the tower, forbidding anyone to enter or leave save servants who held no love for the whore of Casterly Rock. All it took was a bag of gold, and Diana made sure her wedding was without shame.

So there Megga was, swathed in silk and velvet that she supposed showed how much favor Tytos showed her, but in reality it only showed that the woman had no idea what fashion was. The fabric was heavy and boxy, leaving the woman looking more like a sack than a maiden. "Lady Targaryen, are you well? Lannister men can be so...eager." The woman smirked at Diana, thinking to embarrass her. Her father, grandfather and his party had left at dawn, her grandfather leaving her the most interesting of wedding presents, a decree that she would receive the red dragon egg that had been placed in her cradle as a babe, but had never hatched. The gift was strange, and had her thoughts spinning, but she was thanking the gods that her cooky grandfather had left so he would not have to hear such things about his granddaughter.

Her lip curled slightly at the woman's remark, but other than that she seemed outwardly unfazed. "It's Lady Lannister, with Tytos a widow, I am acting Lady of the Westerlands." Diana fought a triumphant smirk when the whore faltered, "And my Lord husband and I are both aware of our duty, and are working towards an heir." Her voice was cool, and she felt Tywin place his hand on her knee under the breakfast table, squeezing her leg as a sign of approval. She could not put Megga in her place with Tywin's father alive, but the old man was heavy, he would eat, drink and whore himself to death soon enough, and her husband shall be a far better lord than his father ever was.

A/N:

Short little update, it's official! Sorry the sex scene is so vague, I'm horrible at writing sex scenes. Next chapter will be full of surprises! And death, because it's ASOIAF.


	7. Chapter 7

Tywin knew there was something different about his wife, before he could brush off the way she seemed to always have a knowing look in her eyes. Yet when she woke up screaming in grief two moons after their wedding, dragon dreams did not seem so ludicrous. He knew Diana had received a set of letters, from her mother, her sister, her father and even her grandfather, the king. They had been sharing a bed every night with bated breath, waiting for her womb to quicken with child. When he was awoken in the dead of night to a sorrowful wail, Tywin instinctively flung himself from the feather bed and drew the curtains back, the rising sun illuminating his wife. Her other worldly Valyrian beauty was striking, but there were tears in her eyes and she was paler than normal. He tentatively removed the covers that covered his shaking bride, but found no blood on the sheets. "Diana, what is it?" In their room, Diana had insisted on refraining from titles.

Her purple eyes were wide, her whole form cowering, "I need to go." Those were the only words she spoke before she lunged forward, bolting out the door in nothing but her shift. Tywin cursed, and contemplated having the spooked guards that stood outside their chambers go after her. No, that would only insight rumours, Diana may be regarded as Lady of the Rock, but her blood was Targaryen, and madness or greatness followed that blood line. Cursing to the seven hells, he pulled his boots onto his feet before heading after her. It was the beginning of dawn, so the only other people awake were the servants. Diana was learning the ways of the Rock still, so she only knew the easiest ways to get to places, so Tywin took the more commonly used hall that would lead to the Lion's Mouth, and the courtyard surrounding the keep.

A streak of silver crossed the corner of his eye, and Tywin ran faster. Diana was lithe, but with bare feet and her waist length hair fluttering behind her, she was hard to miss. "Diana!" Tywin snarled, reaching out with his hands to grab onto her. His fingers found purchase in her mane, and while he hated the sound of pain that escaped her when he pulled, the heir to the Westerlands yanked his bride by her hair until he could dig his hands into her shoulders. "What happened?" Tywin demanded, but she would only weep and repeat that she had to save them.

He picked her up bridal style and carried her back to his personal chambers, fearful of what she might try if he were to bring her to hers. Tywin ordered the guards to fetch the Maester with something to help her sleep. Diana was a wreck, staining his sleep shirt with her tears.

"I have to help them!" Diana moaned, "Why would I see this if I could not prevent it?" She babbled on and on, until Maester Pycelle, a man who recently had taken taken over when their old Maester met the seven. He was prideful, mainly because he served house Lannister, and gave Diana enough sweet sleep to ensure she was down for the day. Tywin hoped that was enough time for her to calm down.

"My lord?" Pycelle simpered, his brown hair was already turning grey, even into his rather long beard. "This letter also came, it bears the royal seal, it is addressed to you, Lord Tywin, and the Princess Diana." Tywin stared down at three headed dragon, the red and black wax unbroken. The lord paled as he read it, and then turned to stare at his wife, realization dawning on him. The letter was short, written by the king.

 _Lord and Lady Lannister,_

 _Summerhall is no more, destroyed by wildfire. Sorcery has claimed the lives of many, including the King, Aegon the fifth, his hand, Ser Duncan the Tall, and his eldest son, Ser Duncan the Small. Amongst the ashes, I was made a grandfather, and Diana an aunt. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was born in the rubble. The royal party will sail directly to King's Landing, where the realm will gather to renew their oaths to the Targaryen._

 _Signed,_

 _King Jaehaerys of the house Targaryen, the Second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm_

Twin stared at the words, before finally stating, "Long live the king."

A/N:

Whoo! There you have it! Rhaegar is born, Tywin and Diana are trying for kids, and Tywin knows of her dragon dreams!


	8. Chapter 8

Diana remained in her rooms for a fortnight, openly grieving and her weeping echoed through the rock. The favorite grandchild of Aegon the fifth openly cursed the wood's witch who put the idea of dragons come again into her grandfather's head. From the rubble of ashes and corpses, a few dragon eggs had been found, one of them being the red one promised to her. It had arrived via a rider from house Dayne, who offered his apologies for the tragedy of Summerhall and then rested for a day, before on for King's landing. Diana never wished to return there, but Tywin had given her all the time he could afford. They would leave in an hour, for a grueling two week journey to King's Landing, the carriage of ornate gold surely would slow them down. But Gemma was not as skilled in horseback riding as she was, and riding for two weeks straight seemed daunting even to the princess.

"Rhaegar." Diana murmured to herself, that was her nephew's name. She had dreamed of her sister weeping over the babe for months, but two weeks ago the dream changed. Slowly, through Rhaella's eyes, Diana saw the destruction surrounding them. The looming towers falling prey to green flame, the screams of those burning, the smell of searing flesh.

But there was nothing she could do, and it tore Diana apart. Already, one her spies had told her of Lady Ellen Tarbeck, formerly Lady Reyne, and how the woman had scoffed at the weakness of the new Lady of house Lannister. A barren dragon, the woman had said of her, simpering, weeping girl. Diana knew that the Tarbecks were the worst offenders when it came to unrepaid loans, their hall was rebuilt on Lannister gold. Tywin wished to demand every copper back, but his father would not allow it. Diana had thought her good father a fool, someone easy to control. But a fool is a fool, who could not understand what having power truly meant. His mistress was threatened by her, and was demanding more lavish gifts by the day, while his bannerman laughed of the toothless lion. Tytos would need to be removed soon.

Alyssa had been nice enough to pack her newer dresses, with proud lions prancing on the cloth and golden and black silks. Her handmaiden had served Diana since they were both children, and the Velaryon maiden would be missed when it was time for her to wed. Recently, Alyssa had been walking through Lannisport with the lord of the Banefort, whose father had passed the previous year. The Baneforts were of even standing with Velaryon, and the two would make an excellent match. Alyssa was pretty enough, with hazel eyes and chestnut hair, she was no great beauty, but Arthur Banefort certainly looked at her as if she were. When they got back to the Rock, she would draft a letter. For now, she would head down to Lannisport, and spend her morning with the poor. Grieving or no, she had appearances to keep up, and two weeks without her had left the small folk asking for Lady Brightheart, a nickname that seemed to have stuck.

Alyssa and Gemma trailed behind her in the city, with a handful of guards bearing the prancing lion on their breast. Diana was always easy to spot, with her personal standard being held by one of the soldiers, and the trail of servants from the castle bearing bread and flagons of watered wine. Her efforts had made only a slight dip in the coffers, so any complaints of waste directed at her would be replied with the plan she had been pushing, by issuing an extra copper in taxes for every man that a whore brought to her bed, she could afford to feed all the Westerlands. Diana grinned, remembering how she made her husband laugh for the first time, she had suggested that Megga would bring in enough coppers with her good father within a moon to feed the poor for a decade.

They had been in his bed then, Diana often spent her nights in his chambers before crossing the hall to her own for the day. Her moon blood was late by a few weeks, but it was too soon to know. What worried her most was that she had dreamed of her nephew a few months before his conception, yet had no dreams of children of her own. Lady Tarbeck's voice laughed in her head, mocking the barren dragon. Some women did not have children for a few years after they had wed, but Diana wanted a child so badly. Would Tywin wear the triumphant smirk he expressed when she had saved Gemma from a life with a Frey? Or would he simply nod and thank her for doing her duty? Surely, the nights they spent together had evolved from merely duty and onto pleasure, closeness, perhaps even love?

"Lady Brightheart!" The voices called, the children always shouted for her first. A servant, Alla, she remembered, handed her a smaller basket than the large ones the servants carried. The wicker held a bundle of black and red silks, fresh bread still warm. Diana thanked the maid and received a courtesy in return. A girl wearing more rags than actual clothes leapt towards her, and Diana instinctively took the child into her arms. She was no more than six, and scrawny for her age. Her wide green eyes drank in the Lady, before she mumbled, "You are so pretty, milady." The guards around her looked wary, as if they had failed in their duties by letting a child so close to their lady.

"Thank you, little lady." Diana responded, smiling for the first time in ages. She reached into her basket and brought forth a loaf of bread. "For you, my lady." The child seemed to beam at the title, and took the bread eagerly as Diana slowly lowered her to the ground. Children swarmed the Targaryen princess, wonder abound. A boy approached her slower than the others, around the age of nine. He winced with every step, and Diana stifled a gasp at the poor child's blistered and cut feet.

"What happened?" Diana asked him, and the boy looked as though he could cry.

"I was getting f-fish, for my sister and me." The boy blubbered, "And the shells cut me feets."

"Alyssa!" Diana called, and her handmaiden stepped forward, "Go to the seamstress, Nina, and ask for a few scraps of cloth, a rag, and a bowl." Diana picked the boy up, trying not to be upset at the sight of dirt now smudging her chest from the boys filthy clothes. "Where is your sister, dear?" The girl from before re-emerged, it seemed another child had saw the commotion and went to fetch her.

"Tywin!" The little girl shrieked, rushing towards her brother. Diana was momentarily confused, before she realized the boy had been named after her lord husband.

The servants continued to pass out the food and drink brought, but most simply took it with a quiet thanks and continued to watch their lady interact with the orphans. "Where are your parents?" Diana prodded, attempting to soothe both children. Alyssa reappeared with Nina, the seamstress whose mother had given her the banner at her wedding, with soft cloths, a package of salve that a Septon of the Sept they visited often on their way back to the Rock had proffered, as well as a bowl filled with water.

As Diana cleaned the whimpering boys feet, the girl answered, "Father passed a few months ago, he was a soldier escorting party that was attatched by bandits." The princess attempted to show no emotion when the new information processed, the head of arms at Lannisport had sent out extra troops to parties attending the wedding since bandits had been a problem lately.

"What is your name, little lady?" Diana asked, dipping the slowly reddening cloth into the blood and dirt stained water bowl. The boy's feet were almost clean enough to put the salve on and wrap up, they were not infected yet but would probably scar. Her husband would scoff at her for thinking of asking Maester Pycelle to look at the boy's wounds.

"Ellinor." The black haired girl responded, and Diana studied the siblings. They each had dark hair and green eyes, and Diana wondered who inherited whose noses, for the siblings had different shapes there.

"And where is your mother, Ellinor?" Diana asked, picking up the salve. The girl was quiet then, and shame crossed her face.

"Father said she left this world by giving him the best daughter he could have asked for." Tywin answered for his younger sibling. Diana only nodded.

"Lady Lannister?" A soldier had stepped forward and broke rank, causing the small folk to whisper. Diana waved him forward and he bowed before stating, "I knew their father, my lady. Quill was a good man, served house Lannister his whole life."

"And now they are orphans on the street." Diana said simply, perhaps it was her grief speaking, but the woman responded, "Ellinor, Tywin, what would you like to be when you grow up?"

"A soldier, like my father!" Tywin said with a grin, and Diana felt her heart yearn for a child that would speak of her husband like that. "I want to be the next Aemon the Dragon knight, and join the King's guard."

Ellinor simply stared longingly at the beautiful silks that Diana wore, "I want to make the prettiest clothes in the seven kingdoms."

Diana grinned, turning to the man who stepped forward before, "You are a knight, correct Sir?"

The man nodded, "Aye, knighted at a tourney two name days ago for the Lord Gerion." The soldier looked at her strangely for the question, not understanding why she would ask such a thing. "My name is Ser Addam."

"Tywin here, shall be your page, Ser Addam. And when the time comes, your squire." Diana commanded, and the small folk cheered. Diana pondered for a moment on what to do with little Ellinor when Nina stepped forward.

"My lady, I have only two sons." The seamstress began, "Without a daughter, I was considering taking on an apprentice." Ellinor seemed to light up, her grin revealing a missing milk tooth.

"I shall pay the fee, and have someone bring you the sum before the night is out." Diana offered, smiling. But Nina would have none of it.

"Your patronship has made me have to bring in an apprentice for all the extra commissions coming in!" Nina replied, "And my mother would never forgive me for refusing to help with an act of Lady Brightheart." The small crowd seemed to swell, their cheers echoing. Rumours had already begun to fly about the princess, of Lady Brightheart, of the Mother come again.

A/N:

Special thank you to TheMikaelsonCupckae for the constant support and reviews.


	9. Chapter 9

Tywin walked swiftly to his wife's solar. It had belonged to every Lady of Casterly Rock, and every Queen of the Rock before her, the Lannister's were nothing without their traditions and shows of wealth. The door itself was weirwood, an odd choice but sturdy, with diamond handles. Diana sat behind her desk, a large sturdy thing of dark wood and roaring lions carved made up the legs, but she was not alone. A woman, who was wearing a dress that was rough spun, but the lack of wear on the dress signalled that she was probably wearing the nicest dress she owned. She was in her late forties, hair freshly plaited and dirt washed from her face. A peasant woman was in his wife's solar.

"My love." Diana called out, Tywin gave her a shadow of a smile. Her affectionate tone had slowly lost the forced tone to it as time wore on, or perhaps she was just getting better at faking it. His wife turned back to the peasant woman, "Thank you so much for verifying this information, Tasha, please let me know of any new additions."

The woman, Tasha apparently, knew she was being dismissed and curtsied deeply, "Lady Brightheart, Lord Lannister." Outside the door, a guard led her out so she would not get lost or nosy on her way out.

"What's this I hear of you adopting orphans?" Tywin got straight to the point, as was his way. Diana chortled, before laughing softly to herself.

"We leave in half an hour and you ask if I am adopting a brood?" Diana asked, her tone playful. Rumours were flying through the city, and would no doubt spread through the Westerlands as their retinue travelled to King's Landing.

"Then what did you do today, dearest wife?" Tywin drawled, growing tired of her games. His wife smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes.

"A little boy, his name was Tywin." That did not surprise him, many small folk named their children after their liege lords or their families. "His feet were cut up, to the point that he could not walk. Do you remember the Master of Arms sending out extra soldiers as an escort to a few nobles on the River Road?"

It was an odd thing of her to ask him, but of course he remembered, the man had asked Tywin personally to gain permission for the trip and the coin necessary. "Yes, there was a slight skirmish when Hoster Tully traveled here." The guilt in her eyes confirmed why it was important. "The boy lost his father to the bandits then,"

Diana nodded, "His mother died giving birth to his little sister, Ellinor. That boy was nine name days old, and he was raising his sister. He cut his feet by the docks, trying to catch fish on the rocky shore, there were tiny bits of sea shells still in his wounds. Our wedding caused his father's death, we are responsible for that."

Tywin resisted scoffing, she was weeping over small folk now? "Their father was a soldier, he knew the risks." He responded flatly, gritting his teeth at the flash of rage in her eyes.

Diana stood, Tywin still towered over her, but she was a princess, and knew how to take up space. "I am gathering a registry, Tywin. Every Lannister soldier that gives his life for this house shall have his family taken care of. If the children are left orphaned, they will be given positions in open house holds, if they show an affinity to a trade, who ever apprentices them shall receive a tax break of one gold dragon per three moons. If a woman is widowed, she shall receive a gold dragon every three moons until she weds again. That woman who was here was a midwife, she confirmed who was actually the child or widow of a soldier, and shall continue to do so in order to avoid fraud, anyone caught trying to register someone who is not their wife and child will be publicly executed." Diana spoke with a finality that had him enraged.

"And who will be paying for such generosity, Diana? From the coffers of my house, that my father already pisses away?" Tywin shouted, his fists curling. But his wife not even flinch, roaring lion or not.

"I shall be." Diana replied, "I have always been good at predicting tourneys, and have a few thousand dragons from it. When that exhausts itself, I shall find a way to find the coin, if it has not already earned it's own use."

"What use?" Tywin snapped inpatiently, he hated when she spoke in riddles. She was giving money away, the dead had no profits to be made.

Diana did not respond, merely walked to the door and turned to a guard, "Send in Ser Marcus in, please." Why was the Master at Arms waiting to see her?

"My Lord, my Lady!" Ser Marcus walked in, jittering about as if he were overjoyed. "I've just had two hundred men wish to join the ranks of the red cloaks!" Two hundred men? If the rumours of the Ninepenny Kings were to true, they would need to bolster their men and ensure the soldiers were not simply green boys for slaughter.

Diana was glowing, her smile wide. "Wonderful news, Ser. Whatever caused such a rapid increase in recruits?"

"You, my lady." Tywin was shocked, the people were that moved by Diana offering a few coppers a month? Tywin would have to do the math with the Maester, but the expense would not be too high, especially in times of peace, but would ensure the loyalty of his men. They would be more willing to run into death with their families taken care of. "The men speak of Lady Lannister, they call you Lady Brightheart, the Lady of the people, and would give their lives for you, the claim."

"Thank you for the news, Ser." Tywin stated tightly, "Do tell my father the news." Ser Marcus nodded, feeling the tension in the room and left. "Well wife, it seems the small folk are enraptured with you."

"The smallfolk win wars, husband." Diana stated, and reached into her desk. "My sister has written to me, she is looking forward to seeing me. She is praying to the Warrior, apparently."

Tywin was not a fool, and neither was the woman he wed. Letters were always written in code, ravens were easily shot down. "War is brewing." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"And we shall need the men. My grandfather wished for me to marry a Lord Paramount to ensure a large army loyal to the royal family." It was the first time she had mentioned her grandfather since he had watched her throw the dragon egg that he left her into her hearth, she would watch the egg lick up the flames but never burn. ' _He burned with this damn egg.'_ She had hissed. The flames only licked at the priceless artifact, and it would burn to the touch even when the flames had died out, never fully cooling before the fireplace was relit.

"Did you dream of it?" Tywin asked nonchalantly, but the flash of fear in her eyes confirmed what he had never accepted himself, the blood of Old Valyria that ran in her veins, the dragon dreams.

"Only of a white knight battling a Blackfyre knight on horseback." Diana whispered, "A King's guard, I believe." Tywin nodded, pocketing the information away. If it happened, then Tywin would hold stock in his wife's eccentricities.

"Come, we need to head out." Tywin told her, and held his hand out. His wife walked around her desk to come to his side and take his offered arm. "Two weeks on the King's Road, I've no doubt the funeral is an excuse to draw all the great lords in and call the banners."


	10. Chapter 10

It felt strange, that nearly a year after she had arrived to Casterly Rock in a carriage with her sister to meet her betrothed, that Diana would be leaving the same place in an even grander carriage-one Tywin had commissioned specifically for her so that they might tour the Westerlands once the war was done- with her husband to see her sister and new nephew. A tiny jacket was on Diana's lap, she had been studiously stitching her family's sigil of the three headed dragon onto the back. They were to arrive in King's Landing by midday, and two weeks of travelling had yet to bring her moon's blood, making is a month late. She was not ready for the whole court to know, so she decided against visiting the Grand Maester. Perhaps a midwife in Flea Bottom? A few dragons can buy silence just as it can buy loyalty. Diana made sure to keep her handmaiden's unaware, making sure to always go to Alyssa whenever she needed anything of the sort, as her head handmaiden it made sense why they were not privy to when her flower was blooming. Alyssa had yet to ask after it yet, but the knowing smile she gives when she helps Diana to hide from others the nausea and vomit that occurred every morning before she went to the Hall of Heroes to break her fast allows her to not have to say it out loud just yet. Lady Tarbeck's mocking voice reflects in her head, ' _The Barren Dragon.'_ Her hand fell to her stomach, her thoughts halting the steady rhythm of her stitching.

"My lady?" Alyssa questions softly, and for a moment Diana forgot she was not alone in the carriage. Her handmaidens followed like obedient mice, Alyssa Velaryon, Gemma Lannister, Lyna Lefford and Chrysti Brax. Alyssa had been with her since she was thirteen, Gemma having joined her as a clause in her marriage contract, while Lyna and Chysti joined her service under the promise that she would show them how to run households and be good wives, and then find them advantageous marriages. Lyna was a sweet girl, although slightly shy. Diana could not stand Chrysti, for house Brax was an affluent house with enough gold to spare, so as the only daughter Chrysti was spoilt. Diana had made a mental note to find a husband just as obnoxious for her, out of the Westerlands so she would see the girl as scarcely as possible.

"Just the movement of the carriage." Diana replied, assuring her handmaidens she was fine. She moved the silk curtains slightly, peeking out the windows to see Aegon's Hill in the distance, thank the gods.

She could see Tywin riding a few scores ahead, they had an escort of a hundred men. They would arrive just in time for the funeral, she had been told. There were no bodies to burn, it had been done for them. Instead of laying in the Great Sept of Baelor for seven days, her grandfather, her uncle, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and her uncle's wife were simply represented by urns filled with ashes gathered from the ruins of Summerhall. ' _A Dragon does not fear fire, a Dragon is fire'_ Her grandfather had told her, yet he was reduced to dust by fire. Perhaps he was not a true dragon after all.

They began their decent up through the Lion's Gate, rather fitting, she thought. The Great Sept loomed in the distance, and Diana wanted nothing more than to lose her breakfast from the constant rocking of the carriage from the old road. "Princess! Princess!" The small folk cheered, waving little banners with the three headed dragon and a lion on a black field. It seemed a vendor was selling them for a copper a piece, and making quite a steal. Tywin grinned down at her, having ridden up next to the carriage as they rode into the city.

The carriage pulled to a stop before a great series of steps that lead into the Sept, and Tywin dismounted his horse as a servant opened the door to the cushioned space his wife occupied. He offered his hand to Diana, and she took it gently, regal as a queen. Her black silk dress swished around her, long sleeved with a high neckline, it was somber enough for a funeral, yet the bright gold of her hem drew the eye of anyone around, a golden lion. It was her first time returning to King's Landing since her wedding, and there was no doubt which house the Valyrian beauty had been bonded to.

They took the steps slowly, a procession of mourners. When the entered, the king had already arrived. Her father had always been a sickly man, but grief had aged him even further. ' _This crown will kill him'_ Diana thought, he wore the crown of her great grandfather, King Maekar. It was a crown of war, and he would never survive the weight of it.

Diana kept her neck straight the entire memorial, and only let a few tears shed. She would not let anyone see her weep again. The High Septon seemed to prattle on and on about how the deceased would be missed, in the highest of the seven heavens, and that the wood's witch who beguiled the king's mind would rot in the seventh hell. When he finally concluded the service, Diana immediately went to her sister's side, ignoring her princely brother's lustful gaze. She had already promised to wed off Chrysti so that she could take Joanna Lannister on as a handmaiden in her place. Rhaella had seen the way her husband looked at the woman, and wanted it to escalate no further.

Rhaegar was five weeks old, and swaddled in silks in his mother's arms. A small army of nurses and handmaidens stood a polite distance away, ever vigilant. "May I hold him?" Diana asked, trying not to start crying again. Her heart swelled as the babe was passed to her, she so much wanted one of her own. He had Rhaella's eyes, the lighter shade of lavender that her sister possessed, but he had Aerys's nose.

Aerys seemed pleased with his heir, but Tywin stared at her queerly. There was a hooded longing that made her feel as if she had failed him, even though they had been wed just under a year. "Lord Tywin, or should I say, son." King Jaehaerys began, though it did not escape Diana's notice the fury on her brother's face at her father's words, "I am calling a small meeting, the lord paramounts and the small council, we shall eat and discuss the Blackfyres." He spat the final words, and Diana knew her husband's fate was sealed, war was coming.

"Come sister, let us have luncheon together." Rhaella said kindly, and Diana kissed her husband's cheek as they separated.

Diana held Rhaegar in her arms the whole way from the Great Sept to the Red Keep, praying silently to herself that she might have a cub of her own on it's way. Rhaella rode with her in her carriage, and commented on the grandeur of it, Diana had merely quipped, "If Tywin does anything, he does so to the best of his ability." Her sister gave her a suggestive look, and then glanced down at her stomach and they both laughed.

"I have missed you so, sweet sister." Rhaella said, grinning at her sister. They entered the Red Keep and went to luncheon in the gardens, both sisters' sets of handmaidens travelling with them. After they had eaten, Diana turned to her sister and asked if she would like to take a stroll around the gardens, alone. A Lannister and a Targaryen guard followed a respectful distance behind, while the handmaiden's chatted amongst themselves.

Rhaella kept looking over at her, as if she were waiting for Diana to reveal a secret to her. "What?" Diana asked, "You're looking at me as if I were about to hatch a dragon."

"Perhaps you are," Rhaella had responded with a smug smile, "Or a lion cub." Her hand motioned to her sister's chest, and Diana blushed. "You have always had a chest sister, but not the gods did not bless you that much. Mine swelled when I was pregnant with Rhaegar."

Diana smiled tightly, "My moon's blood is about a moon late, and I have trouble keeping breakfast down, but I haven't seen a Maester yet, I'm afraid." She blinked away tears, cursing herself for being so quick to cry as of late, yet another indicator of what she was scared to affirm to herself just to be wrong.

"Then we shall not take you to a Maester, come." Rhaella said brightly, and Diana furrowed her brow at her sister. They returned to the flock of women and Rhaella announced simply, "It's time for Prince Rhaegar to have his lunch, and I would so like to show my sister the nursery. You all are dismissed for the afternoon." Her handmaidens looked to her for approval, and with a nod from Diana curtsied and left with a chorus of, "Princess, Lady Lannister" they were gone, except for the nursemaid who followed the princesses back into the keep.

Inside the baby's crib was a green dragon's egg, the size of the one that still burned at Diana's hearth in Casterly Rock. She smiled at the tradition, and followed her sister past the main room of the nursery and into a smaller nook with a comfortable chair that served as a private feeding room. Rhaella fed her son from her own breast, and turned to the nursemaid. "Alice, this is my sister, Diana Lannister."

Alice curtseyed to her, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lannister." She was a squat woman in her mid forties, with a hint of grey in her brown hair, but sharp blue eyes. Her eyes looked over Diana for a moment before asking, "If I may?"

Unsure of what she meant, Diana turned to her sister to see her nod encouragingly. "Go ahead." Diana breathed, and the woman pressed her hand to Diana's stomach, then her breasts.

"I'd say around two moons, maybe a little less. Any nausea? Sensitiveness of the breasts? Perhaps strange cravings?" Alice prodded, as if to confirm.

"I lose my breakfast more often than I break my fast, and my dresses all seem to chafe against my chest." Diana responded honestly, and could have wept when she saw the triumphant smile of the nursemaid.

"You'll start showing soon, I've no doubt." Alice said, "Congratulations, my Lady."

A/N:

And baby Lannister is a go! Should she have twins? They are common in house Lannister after all


	11. Chapter 11

They stayed in the capital for only three days, Tywin knew his wife wished for more time with her family, but the Blackfyre threat had to be extinguished. Should they prevail, the Nine Penny Kings would surely turn their eyes to Casterly Rock and his Valyrian wife once they had claimed King's Landing. Tywin was overseeing the retinue, ensuring everything was prepared properly. In his saddlebag was the sealed letter from the king, commanding house Lannister to take down those who would dare challenge the might of house Targaryen. King Jaehaerys wished to fight them himself, but the man was weak and had allowed Lord Ormund Baratheon to command instead, allowing Lord Steffon to take in his father's military strategy. Tywin knew it would not be long before his good brother was king, his wife did not have to mention a strange dream to make Tywin believe that the Iron Throne would never stand a weak ruler.

Diana made her way the carriage as Tywin swung himself onto his horse. Her gaggle of handmaidens was whispering amongst each other behind their palms, throwing him sideways glances as if to say, _I know something you don't._ It bothered the young lion, but he stubbornly refused to let his mask of indifference crack. His wife held more sewing supplies in her hands, but the black silk and red string from before were gone, she was using a bolt of bright red cloth with golden thread now. Her silk form disappeared into the carriage, and Tywin did one more sweep of the courtyard from atop his horse before they were off again. The traveling was tiring, but it had to be done.

Every night when they stopped at an inn or made up camp, Tywin would pour over his battle plans, attempting to strategize against an enemy he had never fought before. When his candle ran short, he would climb under the mound of furs that hid his wife and sleep until it was time to wake at dawn.

Every so often when they traveled, Tywin would slow his horse so that instead of leading the procession, he was in the middle where Diana was reclined in her carriage. She had been secretive of her latest sewing project, and Tywin had assumed she was working on new clothes for him, a shirt for him to wear when he was off at war perhaps. Yet with the curtains pulled back, Tywin could just clearly see his wife, her brow furrowed in concentration, as she sewed a little dress with lions on the hem. He had to steady himself atop his horse as he realized who would wear such tiny clothes.

Tywin had learned after knowing Diana as his wife, that she was a woman who took great care in the planning of things. The woman could plan a feast down to the order of the bards, and she expected the order to be kept. It was what made her such an excellent Lady of the Rock, and why Tywin played that he was in the dark about his wife's state for the last week of their trip.

When they finally made it to Casterly Rock, his father was waiting to throw a grand feast for their return. The man was a fool, they had been gone less than a moon and were returning only to leave for war. His whore sat upon his lap and was wearing the lion with a ruby in its mouth again, and Tywin wished for nothing more than to choke her with his mother's necklace. When Tytos was handed the king's letter, he simply read it and smiled. "This is your chance son!" The fat lord gushed, "You, Kevan and Gerion shall make a name for yourselves in this war!" Gerion was but twelve, yet there was nothing stopping the boy once his father said he could squire for his brother during the war. Tytos would not partake in the war himself, he insisted that he was needed at Casterly Rock to rule the Westerlands.

That night in his chambers he paced, he was to leave the next day, no time for rest. Diana was seated on his bed, a hand resting against her stomach. Her dresses were more flowing as of late, she was trying to hide the fact that she was beginning to show. "He sends his sons to do his work." Tywin snarled, "So he can stay safe in his castle and bed his mistress!"

Diana stood, walking to him and placing a hand on either side of his face to keep him from pacing further, "My love. This is your chance. Show Westeros the might of our house, let them hear you roar!" Her purple eyes were boring into his, "Go and win this war, come back to me, come back to your children before they enter this world."

Tywin smiled then, pushing aside the thoughts of his father, "Children?" The relief to hear the words from her mouth, to confirm what he had suspected all along.

"I spoke with Maester Pycelle, I am only two moons along but…" Her hand grabbed his and pressed his palm to her belly, "I'm showing too much for a single child. Do you know that your house is known for twins? It skips a generation the Maesters say…" Diana was glowing, her smile radiant and her eyes full of light.

"Twins…" Tywin echoed, before matching her grin and ensnaring her lips in a searing kiss. "I shall bring you back their heads to decorate the gates."

Diana laughed, "Come home to us, unharmed and that shall be a present enough." His wife's face seemed to darken for a moment, "But if I were to ask for something…"

Tywin was not one to give into the whims of a woman, but the hooded look she gave stirred his interest, "Yes?" He asked, not ready to agree to anything without knowing what it was.

"The houses Tarbeck and Reyne, they must be dealt with." The finality in her voice surprised him, yet caught his attention nonetheless. "They have rebuilt their keeps using Lannister gold, yet we have not seen a copper of the loans back."

The Targaryens were known for their ruthlessness and were not ones to put with a slight, his wife was no exception. The two houses were getting out of hand, openly mocking his house. "We shall deal with them together when I return."

It was to be his last night with her until the war was over and to know that he would return to his home to meet his heirs was the greatest parting gift she could have given. "Come, my love," Diana said softly, and they made their way to their bed. Her nimble fingers undressed him down to only his small clothes and tunic before she turned and lifted her hair so he might unlace her dress. When she was down to her shift, they crawled in bed together, and his hand fell onto the slight swell of her stomach, surprised at how much she was showing without layers of silk working to hide it. "I like the name Alysanne for a girl." Diana murmured softly, her head cradled on his chest, "There have been Alysanne's in both our families."

Tywin smiled, "Alysanne Lannister." The name had a nice ring to it, "And for the next Lord of the Rock?"

Diana was silent for a moment as she pondered the question, "Tyrion, perhaps? Or maybe Tommen."

"They were Kings of the Rock." Tywin mused she had been reading up on his family history. "Jaime?" He asked after a moment, thinking it strange to pick out a child's name when it had yet to be born, but then again, he would not be there when that time came.

"Jaime and Alysanne." There was a softness to Diana's voice as she spoke, that reminded him of how his own mother said his name, the lilt of affection and love.

"May they inherit their mother's beauty." Tywin breathed, as the sound of his wife's breathing lulled him to sleep.

"And their father's wit." Diana murmured.

A/N:

Thanks for the love and support, guys. It means the world to me. I had thought of keeping Tywin's kid's names the same, but Cersei is supposed to take after her mother, so while Alysanne will have Cersei vibes, she will also grow up with a mother figure and a healthy relationship with her parents. That being said, the wood's witch scene is still totally going to happen, because Diana has an uber hatred of witches from how her grandfather died, and I can't wait for the parallel between when Diana met a wood's witch as a child and how she deals with a wood's witch messing with her own child.


	12. Chapter 12

Diana wandered the halls of Casterly Rock, it had been six moons, half a year since she saw her husband last. Tytos was not happy that any ravens with updates on the war were sent directly to her. The man had blubbered that war was no thing for a woman, let alone one heavy with what Pycelle had confirmed to be twins. Diana only smiled and stated that he was the one who told the servants he was not to be disturbed when in his tower, the whore's tower, and she was simply easier to reach, the Lord and Lady's solars were right by the rookery for this reason. Her good father had not stepped into his solar since her husband left, and Diana was left handling the household with only Gemma to help. Little Tygett was only eight and did not understand why his brothers were gone and the guards were halved.

Ser Addam had been one of the few soldiers left behind, and Diana had found out after her stunt in Lannisport with the orphans that the knight had been assigned to guard her personally by Tywin while they were at war. Little Tywin, or Tywin Surefoot as he had been nicknamed due to how he came into the Lannister's service as well as his advanced footwork for one so small, was a better page than most would have thought, and his feet had healed up nicely. Ser Addam was happy to protect his Lady, and always let her know of any problems between the soldiers and the small folk. They were paid with enough Lannister gold to afford whores, and any nonwilling women were to report to her should an issue arise. Nothing had happened yet that she was aware of, but it was only a matter of time.

It was an hour before dawn, but the babes were restless and would not let her sleep. Diana wondered what Tywin would think if he saw her now, would he smile the true smile he saved for her and his siblings? Or would he thank her for doing her duty to their house and be repulsed by how big the normally lithe woman had gotten.

"My lady." Ser Addam had grown used to her being awake early, while his page would remain asleep for another few hours before he had a servant go to rouse him. "A group of ladies arrived late last night, they desire to meet with you to breakfast and then go to the sept to pray for the outcome of the war."

"Which ladies?" Diana frowned, who arrives in the middle of the night without someone to greet them? Oh, she realized, women who wish to make up a slight in order to have something to embarrass her.

"Lady Tarbeck, Lady Reyne, and their handmaidens," Addam said tentatively, and Diana's frown deepened, of course, it was them. The two were mother and daughter, but Lady Tarbeck held much power over her mother.

"Very well." Diana began with a sigh, her feet were swollen and she had no wish to deal with tittering ladies, but it was her duty. "Let's head to the kitchens, then." Ser Addam only smiled at her, knowing that planning a small feast to break their fast was not the only reason Diana wished to visit the kitchens.

They walked for ten minutes in silence until the kitchen appeared, on the west side of the castle so that the ovens could vent out. The head cook, Jon saw the swish of crimson silk that cloaked his Lady and came forward with a small plate of strawberry tarts. "Good morning, Lady Lannister!"

Diana smiled brightly at the man and took an offered tart, her recent craving. "At this rate, my children will be strawberry blond." She quipped, earning the laughter of those surrounding them. "A few ladies have arrived, and we shall be breaking our fast in the small hall that faces the east if you could send up the proper food. I was thinking the normal, blackened bacon, sausage, biscuits and honey, fruit...strawberry tarts."

The large man burst into laughter, "Of course my lady! Enough strawberry tarts to last a decade."

"Wonderful, the meal will start an hour after dawn." Diana grinned to herself if the shrews wished to slight her by arriving in the midst of night, then they could deal with a lack of sleep from it.

The Lady of Lannister made sure to thank the servants once more before she returned to her rooms, the gown she had on, while lovely, was not the one she wished to wear when she saw the women. Alyssa was reading a book by the table when Diana returned, "My lady, I never thought you to be one to rise so early."

Diana smiled at her, "The Maester claims walking will make my feet swell less, but I fear it may only make them swell more." She turned to her wardrobe, "Will you help me dress? We have visitors, so I must play the part."

When the children first started weighing on Diana, sitting for an hour as her hair was woven into elaborate styles no longer seemed worth the time, and she had been plaiting her waist length silver mane into a simple plait. But a display of power and wealth was needed here, for Diana had no doubt Lady Reyne would be wearing a fine gown commissioned with Lannister gold, sums they had no intention of repaying.

As Alyssa unlaced her gown, Diana thought of which gowns still fit her, and which had been specifically commissioned for her to wear while she was expecting. "Alyssa, will you grab the gown with the lion?" All of Diana's gowns were embroidered with lions and/or dragons, but her handmaiden did not need to think of which she referred to, only murmured, "yes, my lady."

The gown was myrish lace, light and airy, with a pooling skirt that slowly faded to black, yet the bodice was crimson, and her large pregnancy bump was covered with a roaring lion, it was perfect. "Nina certainly has outdone herself," Alyssa commented, the dress had arrived with Ellinor when she visited her brother, and the child was proud to say that the pearls sewn onto the wrist length sleeves were sewn by her own hand.

"Yes, she has." The dress laced up with ease, a feat considering how much her measurements had been in flux as her stomach grew to accommodate the twins. Diana did not need to have a dream of herself holding her children the way she dreamed her sister had she just felt it in her bones, that she would be blessed with a son and a daughter.

Diana sat before her vanity as Alyssa began to work on her hair. The lady had gentle hands and knew Diana, faults and all. But once the war was one, the Banefort Lord would be knighted, and return triumphantly to claim his bride. She would miss her childhood friend and would long for someone to be able to trust completely enough to tell her hopes, dreams, and fears to.

Diana was so lost in thought, she did not even realize that Alyssa had finished her hair. It was the latest southern trend and framed her face well. "Thank you, Alyssa. Come, let us break our fast, Lady Reyne and Tarbeck were here."

If the Velaryon maiden had any qualms with it, she did not voice it, only followed her lady to the small hall she liked most out of the many within the Rock. Good, they were the first ones there. Diana seated herself at the head of the table, and Alyssa at her left. Servants had already dropped off flagons of spiced milk, cider, and water. A few serving maids filtered in and laid down more food before stepping into the shadows, ready to serve the meal once the guests arrived.

Twenty minutes past when they were invited, the ladies arrived. Lady Ellyn's gown was bedecked with so many precious gems of varying color, that Diana felt dizzy from looking at it too long. Her mother was dressed more modestly and it was clear who held the power. Ellyn resented Diana for taking her place, the woman was meant to wed Tytos's elder brother, yet tried to bed both heir and spare, and had been set aside when Lord Tion passed and his brother became the heir. Tytos married Jeyne Marbrand instead, and how their son was wed to a Targaryen princess, the first time the two lines had ever been crossed.

"So sorry, Lady Targaryen, we were ever so weary from our travels." Lady Ellyn cooed as if she were speaking to a child. Her brown hair was spun up into an even more ridiculous style than her hair, and Diana ponders if the monstrosity is the reason she took so long getting ready.

"Times of war are tumultuous." Diana conceded, placing a palm against her belly and enjoying the spark of rage within the woman, "As Lady of the Westerlands, I am always happy to offer shelter to those whose keeps are unable to protect them." The silver-haired woman enjoyed watching both women gape for a moment, floundering to recover. Diana merely smiled at them and motioned the serving girls forward.

"I can assure you, my lady. Our husband's keeps are quite the defensive strongholds." Lady Tarbeck spoke up then, earning a glare from her daughter.

"Oh, I am sure." Diana said softly, "Reinforced with Lannister gold." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alyssa hide a smirk by biting into a bit of bacon.

"Your good father is very generous." Lady Ellyn responded tightly, "Just as his brother was before him."

Diana laughed lightly, "Of course, I had forgotten you were close to my good father's brother. Lord Tytos was speaking to me of it just the other day, actually." She paused for a moment, making sure she had their full attention, "He asked me to draft a letter asking when repayment may begin?"

The silence was deafening, and after a moment, Lady Ellyn merely said, "Shall we head to the sept to pray?"

The Valyrian beauty only smiled, they were in the lion's den now, whether they knew it or not.


	13. Chapter 13

Tywin was never close to his father's brother, his Uncle Jason Lannister. The man was a fourth son, and resided with his wife at her family's seat, but he was a seasoned warrior and led the charge when his brother chose to stay at home with his whore. This war had taken too many good men. Steffon was now a Lord Paramount himself, his father one of the first casualties of battle. There were many heirs on the field that day that became lords of their ancestral seats. Tywin cursed his father's cowardice, it was he who should have fallen instead of Jason. Diana was right, the Westerlands would know of the might of a roaring lion, whether his father wished for it or not. He would start with house Tarbeck, and strike fear into the heart of Lady Ellyn as her father's seat was brought to ruin, before he headed for her son's personally. Tywin knew that Diana was well loved by the household of the Rock, so it was not too hard to convince a select few of the staff to report to him should anyone attempt to get to him through his wife. He had heard of what transpired at the king's memorial, of how Lady Ellyn whispered of barren dragons. The woman even attempted to marry one of her daughters to Kevan, speaking of how their children would inherit the Westerlands when Diana failed to produce an heir.

The final battle was set to begin, Tywin in charge of the Lannister men after his Uncle's demise. Ser Gerold Hightower of the King's Guard led the final battle as the senior commander after Ormund's death. With a volley of arrows cascading down from the Blackfyre's, the cavalry charged on both sides. It was not Tywin's first battle, but he was determined to make it the last one he had to participate in, he was done with this war. He wanted to return home, to see his wife heavy with his children and see if her prediction of fraternal twins was true. Tywin had a bit of doubt, for this was set to be the final stand, and the Blackfyre king had yet to get anywhere near a King's Guard. Those of the elite guild were flanking the crown prince, Aerys. While his wife held little love for her brother, Tywin had to admit the man could wield a weapon. They had fought side by side in this war, and Tywin had seen him count down soldier after soldier. The Valyrian was defending his claim to the throne, just as Tywin was fighting for his claim to remain heir of the West.

"Barristan!" Ser Gerold's voice cut across the mayhem of battle, and Tywin watched with wide eyes at the man in white armor rode forward, a direct line to where Maelys Blackfyre was reigning hell down with a mace. ' _A man in white armor defeats Blackfyre'_ Diana's soft lilt has him staring, and he almost gets himself killed by gawking. Aerys is hacking down on a sellsword who had tried to earn glory by stabbing the young lion in the back. "Lannister, don't go green boy on me now!"

Before he has a chance to form a retort, cries of victory arise around them. Ser Barristan had carved a bloody path through the Golden Company and killed the last Blackfyre, crushing the resolve of his enemies. It was done, the war was won. Six months of battling, plotting and marching, and he was going home.

Ser Gerold walked up to the crown prince and the heir to the Westerlands, "Kneel." He said solemnly, and the young men dipped their knees into the blood and dirt. "I, Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the King's Guard, do hereby knight you, Ser Aerys Targaryen, and you, Ser Tywin Lannister."

A/N:

Quick little recap of the battle, who lives and who dies. According to the ASOIAF wiki, it was the war that gave Tywin the resolve to go after the bannerman who had wronged his family, but I added a little bit of personal reasoning as well.

Next chapter: Diana's POV, Tywin comes home, and the issues with the Reynes and Tarbecks come to a head.


	14. Chapter 14

Diana was unsure at first why the ladies of two keeps were at her home when they were supposed to be running their own. It was Megga, Tytos's whore who informed her rather smugly, that Tytos was speaking of fostering one of her children with the Reynes, once the child was off the breast. ' _The girl, if you have one. Can't have the heir leaving the den too soon. Tytos seemed delighted at the idea'_ Her voice was snide and Diana was struck with such a fury that she only screamed at the woman to get out, let the whore have her moment of victory. Her breath was labored, her heart racing, and all she saw was red, she took out her parchment and quill, as well as a stack of opened letters. The ladies had stupidly thought to use the rookery, Pycelle had been in Tywin's pocket since the moment he had arrived, and had been informed to look to Diana for instruction in his absence. Lady Ellyn was a haughty writer, her large scrawl speaking of how she would be returning to her second son, the acting lord she wrote too, soon, and spoke of the dragon bitch who was fat as a sow, much too large for a woman having a child.

Diana's anger was mounting with each word, the foolish woman did not realize Diana was having twins. Her hand shook as a pain flashed down her spine, but let her rage guide her. Smoothly, she copied the style of Lady Ellyn's handwriting, instructing her two daughters to be sent to Casterly Rock, so that Kevan might choose between them for a bride. Another rack of agony left her crying out, and the door to her solar opened once more. "Get out!" Diana screeched, her voice cracking. It was Alyssa, and her face paled at the sight of her Princess, quivering over her desk, dress stained with blood from the front of her waist. Her hand gripped the seal she had brought tightly.

"Will you stop plotting for a moment?" Alyssa asked accusingly, her fear giving her voice a hardness. "You are in labor, Diana, a bloody one at that!" It was still a few weeks until she was to term, but twins were known to come as early as they'd like.

Diana's eyes flashed, and she handed her the letter, as she gripped the desk tightly with her other hand, grunting in pain. "Take her seal, send it on the fastest raven we have, and then tell the Ladies Tarbeck and Reyne that Lord Tytos offers them to travel by sea on his flagship this evening to their keeps." It would be slower by a day, but a display of wealth and generosity they would not refuse. "I want them gone before my children enter this world."

Alyssa nodded, hiding the documents in the sleeves of her dress before quickly hiding the real letters as well in her Lady's desk before shouting, "Guards! Fetch the Maester, Lady Lannister is in labor!"

The great Weirwood door opened to two house soldiers staring with wide eyes at the blood on her gown before one rushed forwards to carry her to her chambers while the other went to fetch Pycelle. Alyssa made quick work to braid her hair back and remove her blood-stained gown, leaving her only in her shift as the Maester bolted in and ushered her to the bed. "I shall be back, my lady," Alyssa said once Diana was settled, and the woman only nodded as her body flushed with the heat that only she seemed to feel.

A crack of thunder made her jump, "A storm is brewing, my lady. A fierce thing if one were on the seas, but nothing for you to worry about." Diana thought of Tywin, was he sailing in this storm, into another battle? Here, she was fighting her own in the birthing bed.

She screamed, the pain was worse and coming more and more often, Pycelle was peeking between her skirts more often than she would have liked, but was relieved to hear him say, "It's almost time, my lady." Alyssa reappeared at her side, taking her hand for Diana to squeeze harshly on as she was reminded to breathe. Diana could not even tell how long the handmaiden was gone for, but it was long enough for Diana to begin to push and her friend to tell her it would all be done soon, meaning more than just her labor pains.

Diana screamed until her voice was raw, and she was sure they could hear her clear to the Smoking Sea. "I see a head!" Pycelle called, and two nursemaids stood ready, one with a crimson cloth, and the other a black, to swaddle the infants and tell them apart should they both be the same gender. Rain pelted the windows, and with a mighty shriek, the next heir to the Westerlands was born. The sound of a babe's wail had Diana sagging in relief, but the urge to push came again, and before she knew it, a second scream joined the first and a black bundle and a red bundle was placed in each arm.

"Where is she?" A man's voice was arguing, growing closer and closer, now that Diana could hear something other than her own screams. She knew that voice and the one that matched it.

"Now son, calm down!" Tytos was trying to assure his son, "You'll see your heirs soon!" A crashing sound had Alyssa leaving her side to open the door, but all Diana could look at was the two babes with their faces scrunched as they realized they were no longer in the comfort of the womb. A little boy and a little girl, with wisps of hair more silver than gold.

"Tywin," Her relief was palpable, he had a healing scratch on his chin that would leave an attractive little scar, and he seemed to have aged five years in the time he had been gone, but he was here.

"Diana." He was searching her face, red with sweat and gown bloodied, holding his newborn children. Tywin rushed to her side and kissed her fevered brow.

"You made it just in time to meet…" Diana's voice trailed off, she was so tired. Her eyes fluttered until all she saw was black.

Distantly, she could swear she heard Tywin calling for her, but she simply did not have the strength to respond.

A/N:

I know, I'm evil. But the babies are here!


	15. Chapter 15

Tywin had faced death, he knew what it looked like and how to curl his lip and as the Bravosi man he had met said, ' _not today.'_ He had never been afraid then, but standing next to his wife, his mind conjuring all of the parallels to his own mother's death in childbirth, Tywin found himself afraid. "Take the babes!" The voice of Alyssa Velaryon cut through his thoughts, pushing bundles of silk into his arms. Eyes of jade and lavender stared up at him in wonder, and Tywin felt a stab of guilt at the love he felt for the two responsible for his wife's current condition. He never got to see Diana big with child, and could only watch helplessly as Pycelle worked with bloody hands.

"Jaime and Alysanne Stormborn." Alyssa murmured, "Your son is also your eldest." Neither looked at each other, both staring with bated breath as Diana breathed in her sleep.

It was an eternity before Pycelle finally stood, "There was a close call, my lord, the placenta stuck, but we are out of the woods."

"She is half dead." Tywin ground out, glaring at the man who only smiled with amusement at how his voice was soft, as to not raise the ire of his children.

"A harsh birth, every woman battles in the birthing bed, the lady is merely exhausted, a week of bedrest and she shall be fine." Pycelle assured, "The babies both seem to be healthy, my lord."

Tywin stared down at his children, with their little tufts of silver hair. "Hello," He whispered, rocking them gently. Alysanne blinked at her father, purple eyes wide with wonder, and Tywin smiled at her, her eyes were a shade lighter than her mother's, but it was his nose she possessed. Jaime had closed his jade green eyes, the same as his own, and was snoring softly, his mother's lips present. They both showed the otherworldly Valyrian beauty, but Andal blood ran in their veins.

Once the surrounding area was cleaned of blood, Tytos was ushered in by a serving maid. "I'm a grandfather!" He said more to himself than anyone.

Tywin revealed his children to his father with a hint of reluctance. "Father, we need to discuss the events of the war, and the future of house Lannister."

"My boy, they are the future!" Tytos motioned to the newborns, "Why just today I agreed to have your little girl Fostered in Castamere!" Lightning flashed, and the sound hid his snarl of rage.

"My daughter is not an hour old, and you would send her into our enemy's home?" Tywin seethed. "Away from her own mother when she has barely brought her into this world?"

Tytos seemed almost blind to his son's rage, and chided, "Now son, it would not be for a year, and I thought you would be happy, this brings a new alliance for us!"

"My children shall remain with their mother, and shall be raised as children of Casterly Rock. If I choose to foster my children, that is my decision to make, not yours." His tone was ice, and Tytos sputtered, "The Reynes and the Tarbecks are already being sent ravens to answer for their outstanding debts. I had them sent when I docked."

"My lord, if I may show you where Diana has set up the nursery." Alyssa cut in, and Tywin stared at her blankly. Diana was well aware of how his family held to tradition, and his children would be placed in the same nursery that he had, but her eyes held a hooded look so he merely agreed and followed her out of the room before his argument with his father could escalate further.

When they reached the nursery, Alyssa glanced around to ensure they were not followed before bolting the door. "My lord, Princess Diana was aware of Lady Ellyn's plotting."

"What?" His voice was a whip cracking, and the maiden flinched. Tywin quickly placed his children in their cradles so he could face her properly.

"The ladies arrived two days ago, Lady Ellyn slighting Lady Diana at every turn. My lady started screening her letters, practicing her handwriting and found out that Lady Ellyn had plotted to take Lady Alysanne as a hostage to ensure when Lord Tytos passed, their legacy would be secure. I have never seen her so enraged, my lord." Alyssa was pale with fear, "It sent her into labor, but she staved off the pain long enough to have me send a letter in Lady Ellyn's hand, instructing her daughters to make haste, only stopping to rest a few hours at a time, to come to the Rock, so that Lord Kevan might choose one as a bride. If she wished for my lady's child, Diana said she would take both her daughters."

Tywin grinned at the woman, his pretty little wife was always plotting something, and Lady Reyne would never attempt to take Tywin's children if he had hers first. "Thank you, Lady Alyssa. Please ensure the nursemaids know to look after the children." Weariness weighed on his bones, and Alyssa simply curtsied as he walked down the hall to his rooms.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

When Tywin rose at dawn, as he had every day for as long as he could remember, he dressed quickly. First, he made his way back to the nursery, and scooped his children into his arm, both barely fussing before falling back asleep. A servant curtsied to him and reported, "They sleep well, milord, and eat heartily." Tywin nodded at her and pushed the door back open to head to his wife's rooms.

The maester was already there, having been fetched by Lady Johanna, who had replaced Lady Chrysti after she was wed. The handmaid was a by the door, and both watched his wife whisper something to Pycelle before he walked up to his lord. "Lord Tywin! Lady Diana is doing well, if you will excuse me, I have to get a few things from my stores."

"My love." Diana's voice was weak, but her eyes were bright as she stared at their children in his arms. Tywin approached the bed, sitting on the edge and placing the swaddled children between them. "You made it back to us."

The use of plural had Tywin smiling at her, "Me? I fought a war, you gave me an heir and a little lady." Diana laughed, and he realized how much he missed the sound.

A servant brought in a light breakfast of honeyed bread, fruit and a few bits of bacon, and the new family spent the morning in quiet bliss. Diana enjoyed learning her husband was a knight and the way she purred, " _Ser Tywin"_ made him wish to begin trying for another child sooner than later.

Diana had just begun to tell him of the men that enlisted while he was gone, three hundred men being trained to replace part of the casualties he faced when a servant burst into the room, flustered and out of breath. "My lord! My lady!" He huffed.

"Out with it." Tywin snapped, tempted to geld the boy for interrupting.

"Tywin?" Diana asked questioningly but stared at the boy. ' _Oh,'_ he thought, ' _so this is little Tywin Surefoot.'_ The boy was scrawny but seemed to be building muscle. "What is it?" His wife continued.

"It's Lord Tytos, he was climbing the steps to the tower." The boy huffed, "They say he collapsed and fell down the stairs!"

For a moment, Diana seemed about to smile, but quickly her face changed to a feigned shock, then a fake worry. No one else seemed to realize it was an act, "Is he okay?"

The boy shook his head, "The maester is with him, my lady, but he did not have long." Diana nodded, and Tywin watched her kindly dismiss the boy with a smile and a thank you.

"I need to go make sure," Tywin said, but in his gut, he knew his father was dead. Yet he did not even make it to the door before Ser Marcus appeared, his face grave.

"Lord Lannister." He declared, and bent to one knee, "I hereby renew my vows to house Lannister, and it's Lord and Lady, Ser Tywin and Lady Diana." Diana's purple eyes flashed with triumph, and he knew what she had done.

"Thank you, Ser Marcus." Tywin spoke after a moment, "If I could have a moment with my family…" The room slowly cleared with a chorus of 'my lord's' and 'my lady's'.

"Did you dream it, or did you poison him?" Tywin murmured, his voice tight.

Diana stared at him for a moment, as if weighing the worth of the truth. "He was weak, and he was a fool. He would have taken my daughter from her cradle and fed her to the two-tailed lions, I would not allow him to do that, to bring our house further into ruin." Her voice was fierce, and Tywin saw the dragon within her rearing its head, the mix of madness and greatness. "I want his whore stripped from her tower, and the bitch's daughters locked up there instead. Once their family is no more, I shall send them to the Silent Sister's as a personal thank you to the Stranger for accepting every last Reyne and Castamere on this earth. She wanted my children, Tywin, so I shall take her whole family."

Tywin stared at her, his wife pale from childbirth yet alight with fury. "You have given me two children, my lady, I shall give you two boons. The end of two houses."

"And the whore?" Diana challenged.

Tywin smiled at her, but his eyes were cold, "That, I shall do for myself."


	16. Chapter 16

Three days after Diana brought the newest Lannisters into the world, the two youngest daughters of Lady Ellyn rode into the lion's mouth. Word had spread quickly of the death of Lord Tytos, and both women appeared garbed in black silks. They were no older than fifteen and thirteen, but had their mother's coloring and features, making it easier for Diana to harden her heart towards the girls. Diana was there to greet them, atop a large black mare that seemed more apt for war than a leisurely ride. A gift from Lord Stark, one that Diana had added the golden and red saddle that was a wedding gift from Lord Tyrell. From the height of her horse, Diana looked coldly at the maidens before her, and revelled slightly in the spooked looks. She was clad in a fine midnight fabric, golden lions snarling at her sleeves and hem, tiny rubies for eyes made it seem as though they were glaring at whoever looked upon them. With her corset so tight she had to remember to breathe with short, even breaths, Diana's figure had barely widened at the hips from childbirth. Her silver hair was flowing behind her, a thin golden circlet on her head, making her appear regal while also adding volume, resembling a lion's mane.

"Rohanne, Cyrelle," Diana cooed their names, watching them shiver, "You're just in time."

"For what, my lady?" The elder of the two asked. But Diana only smiled at her and waited.

"I've been reading into the history of my house." Diana spoke, "Your mother is a fan of slights, did you know that? Each of you is named after Lannister ladies who died right before you were born, or a few years prior." The guards that escorted the maidens looked antsy but did not dare draw their swords just yet.

The two stayed silent, so Diana continued, "Lady Ellyn has decided to take a Lannister for her own, she wished to wed one of you to my good brothers, and take my daughter from her crib."

Rohanne was pale, while her sister looked about to cry. "What our mother plots, she uses us for pawns." The elder reasoned, her eyes wide with fright, "We had nothing to do with anything. Surely, Lord Tytos sees that."

Diana wanted to laugh, but restrained, the girl was truly a fool to think he held the power. "My good father met the Stranger two days ago." Her black-gloved hand rose then, a signal. "And soon, so shall your escort." Her wrist dropped, and a volley of arrows pierced the ten men escort easily. One of the girls actually shrieked.

From her saddle bag, Diana produced a letter with the Tarbeck seal. "Your house as well as your mother's house, have declared rebellion against the Lannisters. They demand your return, so I shall respond accordingly." A Lannister soldier stepped forward, and Diana thrust the letter into the torch he held up, her fist in the flames. "Seize them."

Soldiers stepped forward and grabbed the girls, forcing them to their knees. "I am a follower of the Seven, so do not believe me to be without mercy." Diana smiled, hearing a sound draw near, a wail. "We all must atone for our sins, and we all must give the gods their due."

Megga the whore appeared, tears streaking down her face as her hands sought to cover her nudity. A sign was hanging from her neck, " _MAIDEN FORGIVE ME, MOTHER PROTECT ME"_ Tywin appeared behind the set of men dragging the sobbing woman, something glittering in his hands.

A stable boy walked forward with the male version of her own horse and a matching saddle. Tywin mounted his steed and rode up next to her, "My lady, the jewels of the Lady of the Rock are being moved to your chambers." His smirk grew as he leaned forward on his mount, presenting the crown jewel, the necklace with the ruby in the snarling lion's mouth. Moving her hair to the side, Tywin clasped the priceless piece of jewelry onto his wife's neck. "Shall we?"

Diana would remember this day until her last, the first time she felt truly powerful, riding next to Tywin as they made their way into Lannisport, his father's whore weeping behind them as she did her walk of atonement to the docks. They kept a faster pace than the whore, allowing the people to cheer for the arrival of their lord and lady, and jeer at the whore of Casterly Rock.

The ruby hung heavy, but the satisfied smile never left her face, she was the Lady of Casterly Rock, her husband the Lord of the Westerlands, and the people were cheering for it.

Diana stared at her husband, watching him bask in the power he had brought them and the love the people had for them that she had earned for them both. It was just as she had planned, he was the sword and she the shield.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

After her display of dominance, it was not hard to have Rhoelle and Cyrelle write to their mother what she told them, that they were in the lion's den, and were to dance with the stranger if their families did not step down. The response had been swift, they were lions of a different coat, but with claws just as sharp. So Diana allowed Tywin to do as he wished before she convinced him to give them a chance to surrender. He rallied the men of Lannisport and gathered a host of five hundred men, half of whom had been kept at the Rock for household guards, making them eager for blood and glory. She sat in the nursery, the twins sleeping soundly, bellies full, and she was happy to have the milk gone from her breasts. A knock sounded on the door, and a grim-faced soldier told her simply, "It's been done my lady."

"Thank you, Ser." Diana said simply, tasting the irony that a man knighted would commit such an act. She was handed a medium sized box of plain wood, latched shut, and headed down to the Lion's mouth. It was the day after her good father's funeral, his bloated body had stunk from sitting in the sept for seven days, and it made Diana feel slightly better than her grandfather was not presented to the seven kingdoms in that way. With the official mourning period over, Tywin was eager to deliver his boon to Diana, a Lannister always pays his debts, after all.

He was riding the same horse as before, although with a less ornate saddle. She held up the box, and Tywin smiled tightly at her, "It had to be done, Diana." She knew it did, but the thought of it disturbed her.

"Bring me her head to decorate the gates." Diana murmured, giving her husband a searing kiss when he leaned down enough for her to reach.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady," Tywin said, and she watched him ride off with crimson lion banners waving.

A/N:

What's in the box?! Hint: it's rumoured to have happened in canon. Those who guess right in a review get a shoutout!


	17. Chapter 17

Tywin rode his men at a quick pace, not allowing the Tarbecks to see them coming. The lord of the Westerlands had sent out raven's to every house that owed money to his, demanding a return of the entire sum, or a hostage to be sent with a payment plan in hand. Dorna Swyft had been heard to be making her way to the Rock, due to his demands. At twenty, Tywin Lannister was the second most powerful man in the seven kingdoms.

Tarbeck Hall was upon them two days after they had set out, and Tywin ordered the siege engines to be brought forward, and then rode a half score away from his men with a few guards, white flag of parley raised. Lady Ellyn and her husband, Lord Walderaen rode out in impressive time. The lady showed no fear, but her lord was pale and shaking. "A gift." Tywin spoke, and a squire ran the box he had brought to Lady Ellyn, quickly running back to his lord before she opened the lid. Tywin grinned at the shriek of horror the woman let out. Two tongues sat in the box, with a parchment pinned to the lid, " _THE STRANGER HAS NO NEED FOR WORDS"_

"My wife has a hatred of wagging tongues." Ellyn stared at him, her denial of whose tongues had been taken slowly dissipating, "It seems your daughters take after their mother that way." Lord Walderaen turned his ashen face to the side, and the smell of bile filled the area as he lost his breakfast.

"You have openly rebelled against your liege lord, and for that your entire house stands accused of treason." Tywin projected his voice, ensuring he was heard, "For that, I shall show no mercy. But my Lady wife is of a gentle heart, and has pleaded that I allow only the men and women to be put to the sword, allowing the children to live, should you surrender right here and now."

Perhaps it was rage that blinded her, but Lady Ellyn spat at him. "A coat of red, or a goat of gold, a lion still has it's claw." She moved to turn her horse back to her keep, and Tywin merely shrugged. Diana could not say he did not try.

"Blast the gate." Tywin said to his brother, Kevan. The second son rode to where the siege engines were being placed, and no sooner had the lord and lady closed their gates, Kevan gave the order to blow it down.

Tywin's men charged the castle, and put anyone who was not a Lannister soldier to the sword, Ser Lorch even going to the kennels to put every last dog down. Lady Ellyn's head was found amidst the rubble, she had tried to send a raven to her brothers, but the rookery tower collapsed with the weight from the boulder that took down the gates. Her body was crushed from the waist down, but her head was etched in a look of horror that Tywin looked forward to seeing on a pike.

They butchered every last man, woman and child in the castle, before looting for gold and valuables. A few men rounded up the livestock, and as every last animal was roasted over a spit, Tywin ordered the castle burnt to the ground, a nod to his wife's house words. The Tarbecks and the Reynes would know fire and blood.

The men rested and feasted over night and rode towards Castamere next. It was a day or so's ride, but the flame of Tarbeck Hall burning could be seen for miles, so Tywin expected little resistance from the house. His host had doubled a day before they reached Castamere, Lord Banefort and Lord Brax had sent men. When they arrived, there was not a soul in sight, they broke the gates down and searched the keep. Where was everyone? "Search the mines!" Tywin barked, and was led to where the main entrance was. A score of Reyne soldiers blocked the entrance, they thought he would not risk funneling his men into a slaughter, nevermind the numbers he had gathered. A letter with terms of surrender was given to the Lord of Lannister, stating that the Reyne's would be loyal vassals and wished for Kevan and Gerion to stay at Castamere as an act of good faith. The man was so proud that he thought he could make demands, take his brothers for hostages?

"Tell your lord he either sacrifices every man to my swords, or you shall all die this night." Tywin replied, ripping the letter in half. With the soldiers returning to the mines, Tywin ordered his men to begin distributing caches of wildfire within the keep, and pick and shovel close every entrance they could find to the mines.

When a response was not given by sundown, Tywin ordered them to begin damming the nearby river, funneling it directly into the mines. It took two days, but slowly, the water reached the mines and the screaming began. The men around him seemed haunted by the wails of the dying, but Tywin knew it would make a statement for years to come. By dawn, there was only silence, and Tywin ordered the keep to be burned, and rode towards home with the heat of wildfire at his back.

A/N:

I got a couple close guesses, but it was Ellyn's daughter's tongues! In canon, it's rumored that Tywin had their tongues removed and sent to the Silent Sisters, so here he did to scare Lady Ellyn. Next chapter: Diana steps completely into the role of Lady Lannister.

P.S.: Should she have a dragon? There's going to be a plot point in a few chapters with a wood witch's prophecy, so it could include how she hatches the red dragon egg.


	18. Chapter 18

"And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my Lord, as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear. I am the lion of the Rock, the mighty Tywin claimed, with a lady divine at his side, only a golden coat could take the flames, with fire and blood, Lord Tywin roared, and the Stranger came that day. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear." The Bard's voice was ominous at the end, and those gathered at the feast to welcome home the victorious paled at the song, but not Diana. She had organized the feast herself, wishing to show her prowess at Lady of the Rock, and it was a chance to introduce her children to those present while also warning them of that would happen should they attempt to cross house Lannister.

Her father had sent her brother and sister in his stead, and Diana relished in seeing her sister. Rhaella was holding Rhaegar, a babe just old enough to sit up on his own and babble nonsensical words, on her right hand. Tywin was to her left, and to his left sat her brother, Aerys. The war had leaned him out, and he was proud of his new knighthood. "Aerys wants another child." Rhaella said softly, "A queen for his son."

Diana took a sip of wine to allow her time to think on her sister's words. "There are not many dragons left in the world, not after Summerhall." It was an unspoken rule that no one should speak of the tragedy, and her words earned a harsh glare.

"I am aware of my duty." Rhaella hissed, yet the weight of her tiara seemed to hang heavy on her brow. "Congratulations on fulfilling yours." There was a hint of envy in her voice that did not escape Diana's notice.

The twins were happily fussing in a bassinet brought down to the Hall of Heroes, Alysanne in a lovely crimson gown and Jaime in a little surcoat with a lion. Their faces held Valyrian looks, but Jaime held the green eyes and golden hair of his father, while Alysanne had lavender eyes and silver hair with a hint of gold.

"Where is the Lady Johanna?" Aerys's voice cut through the room like a knife, drawing both of his sisters' attention.

"Lady Johanna served as my handmaiden for a while once she returned from King's Landing," Diana began, "And I was able to arrange a marriage for her with Prince Mors of the house Martell, he has been given lands in Dorne and needed a lady wife for his keep." Rhaella had tapped her shoulder on that one, speaking of how their father had recently gifted the area around Summerhall to the Dornish Prince after he won a tourney, his champion's purse enough to build a modest keep on the lands. The Lannisters had no previous relations with Dorne, and the prince had sent a letter to her once the lands were formally in his name. Diana had been expecting an offer of betrothal, as it was Rhaella who introduced the prince and Lannister maiden in an effort to keep the crown prince away from the blond.

Aerys looked enraged for a moment, but seemed to point his rage at his wife. Sensing the tension, Rhaegar began to cry, and Rhaella seized the opportunity to flee to the nursery. "Perhaps my father wed me to the wrong sister, our line can barely produce an heir, and here Diana has given you an heir and a bargaining chip."

Tywin's eyes flashed, and Diana's hand gripped his. "The Seven have blessed my lord husband and I, as they shall surely bless you and your bride." The Lady of Lannister said coldly, "An heir is a blessing, and there are many beautiful maidens from noble families that will be honored to be Rhaegar's queen one day."

"Commoners, with weak blood." Aerys spat, drawing a few eyes his way, "The blood of the dragon must remain pure, not tainted with Andal or First Men. The dragon bows to no one."

It was a phrase often said by Targaryens, by both mad and great, yet Aerys looked a fool when he spoke it. Diana pinned him with a steely glare, "A dragon will only yield to a more powerful one, let us pray Rhaegar grows strong."

In the years to come, Aerys would obsess over his sister's words, of the dragon with a lion's mane who would dare threaten his throne. Perhaps that was how the descent of madness began, with a step towards vengeance for a perceived threat.

A/N:

Short little update, planting the seeds of crazy into Aerys's character. His dad's been on the throne for a year, so two more and the mad prince becomes the mad king. I messed with the song the Lannisters are known for a bit.


	19. Chapter 19

Tywin was a man of battle, and enjoyed showing his strength in that fashion, but the ways of the South required him to celebrate once the war was one, and relish in the power displayed. His pretty little wife was much better suited to mind games and feasts than he, all he saw was coin being spent to allow his visitors to be gluttons.

"The seven have surely blessed you, Lord Lannister." Lord Ethan Marbrand spoke, sipping a glass of sweet wine that stunk up his breath, "Little Lady Alysanne has her mother's beauty, and Valyrian coloring. Such a pretty child shall flower into a lovely bride one day."

Tywin resisted the urge to grit his teeth, "Indeed, a bride of the Rock worthy of a Lord Paramount." Or a prince, should Princess Rhaella fail to produce a daughter, "But that is years away, and my Lady wife and I have agreed to wait until our children are out of the nursery to speak of betrothals." Tywin knew that it would make him seem as though Diana had him by cock, but it was a strategic move. By allowing the children to grow older before cementing their fates, the Lannisters could wait to see which noble families produce children near Jaime and Alysanne's age, as well as to see who would approach them for betrothals first.

Lord Marbrand seemed to understand the message Tywin hinted at, his daughter would not be wed into a minor house. A Marbrand bride however… "Lord Ethan, you've a younger sister, correct?"

The lord perked up, "Yes, Lady Darlessa, she is recently flowered and a beauty to behold." Tywin knew he had to award the Lord for sending men to deal with the Reynes and the Tarbecks.

"Perhaps she would like to serve as my wife's handmaiden for a time, get to know my brother Tygett." Tywin offered, it seemed as though Diana went through her handmaiden's like water, quick to marry off those she is not fond of to houses of equal standing, while those who she liked remained slightly longer, and were wed into a higher house. It was a revolving door of about six moons to a year, and Tywin had given up on learning their names, and simply addressed them as a unit: my ladies. The only one he still knew the name of was Lady Alyssa Velaryon, but she was to be wed on the morrow to one of his bannermen, yet another reason for the large gathering.

"Of course, my lord!" The eager head of house Marbrand replied, "I shall inform her that she shall stay behind when my people return to Ashemark at the end of the week that she shall be staying, and send a raven to have her things prepared right away!" His simpering was annoying Tywin, but he hid it with a long drink of his wine. It was late into the night, and his Lady wife had already returned to their chambers for the evening, having danced for a good hour after the feast had ended.

But Tywin remained as his countrymen got deeper and deeper into their cups, for it lead to loose tongues. Prince Aerys was drunk and laughing with a servant maid, and Tywin made a mental note to ensure that the girl got slipped moon tea in her breakfast. He would not tolerate a Blackfyre in his home, intentional or otherwise. Further down the table, his brothers sat, Kevan beating Tygett by a hair in an arm wrestling match. Tywin watched with a hint of amusement as Kevan got cocky and used too much of his strength at once, and Tygett slammed his brother's palm to the table. "Ha!" Tygett shouted, "That'll be twenty dragons."

"Have you heard?" Lord Steffon asked him suddenly, sitting down at the empty seat Diana occupied during the feast. "There's a new heir to Winterfell."

"Yes," Tywin commented, "Lady Diana brought me the letter, Brandon Stark was born a moon ago." It seemed all the great houses were competing for heirs and daughters to marry to another lord's heirs, he had heard Minisa Tully nee Whent was expecting as well.

"Diana seems to be happy as a mother." The informality he used with his wife's name made him grit his teeth, but it was her cousin, after all. "As children, my Father visited court often, Diana always wished to be Good Queen Alysanne, Prince Aerys insisted on being Aegon the Conqueror."

"She was the one to name our daughter." Tywin conceded, smiling at the image of his wife as a child playing "Come into my Castle" with her cousins and siblings.

"Any offers for her hand yet?" Steffon asked with a laugh, Baratheon blue eyes shining, "Or perhaps for little Lord Jaime? After your stunt with the Tarbecks, everyone wishes to be in House Lannister's good graces."

It was not a stunt, it was an act of war. "A few, but they are years away from wedding." Twin responded flippantly, he had stopped bothering to respond to betrothal requests for his children. His siblings were in need of weddings, and blood cements alliances. "Have you seen Lord Redwyne?"

"Sorry, Lord Tywin, his daughter Olenna has already become Lady Tyrell. She's a bit old for you, is she not? Her son is older than you!" Steffon told him, reaching towards a jug of wine. Tywin would give the man that, he could hold his liquor.

"Yet he was recently widowed, was he not?" Tywin pondered, "A summer wife who died of a winter chill?" Winter had not even been heralded yet, only autumn.

"Something like that." Steffon replied, "I think it was a fever, burned right through her. They were wed less than a moon, so there was no love lost there."

"Good," Tywin stated, "I plan to wed Gemma to him." With the Redwynes sharing blood with the Lannisters, it would bring the Reach closer to the Westerlands, as the Tyrell's would share Redwyne blood as well. Not to mention the lowered tariffs they would be able to implement on goods received between the Arbor and Lannisport.

"A wise move, Lord Lannister." The Baratheon raised his glass, "May Lady Gemma give him many red-haired, green eyed sons."

A/N:

So since Gemma was not betrothed to a Frey, I figured Tywin would marry her into a family that would bring prestige to the house, and the Redwynes are the second most powerful house in the Reach, so they bring a lot to the table, plus free wine. I'm going to post an index of the main houses next.


	20. Character Index

**A/N:**

Alright, so a time skip is going to take place, of about two years. Also, while making this, I realized I messed up on the previous chapter with Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne, but I fixed it. That's part of the reason why I made this list, so as time goes forward in the fic, I can keep track of things like this.

 **As of 262 AC:**

 **The Royal Family:**

Seat: King's Landing, Dragonstone

King Jaehaerys the Second, King of the Seven Kingdoms, called a weak king, age 36,

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Queen Shaera, Queen Consort, wife and sister to Jaehaerys, age 38

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Crown Prince Aerys, husband and brother of Rhaella, age 22

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Princess Rhaella, wife and sister of Aerys, age 21

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Prince Rhaegar, son and heir to Aerys and Rhaella, age 3

Silver of hair, purple of eye

 **The Westerlands:**

The Lannisters of Casterly Rock:

Tywin, Lord of the Westerlands, called the young lion, age 22

Blonde of hair, green of eye

*Diana, formerly of house Targaryen, Lady of the Westerlands, called Lady Brightheart and Lady Divine, age 21

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Jaime, heir to the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, age 2 ½ years

Pale blond of hair, green of eye

Alysanne, a Lady of house Lannister, age 2 1/2 years

SIlver of hair, purple of eye

Kevan, second born son of Tytos and Steward of the Rock, age 19

Blond of hair, green of eye

Gemma, betrothed to Lord Paxter Redwyne, age 17

Blond of hair, green of eye

Tygett, third born son of Tytos, age 15

Blond of hair, green of eye

Gerion, fourth born son of Tytos, age 8

Blonde of hair, green of eye

*Pregnant with a third child

House Banefort of Banefort:

Quenten, Lord of Banefort, engaged to Alyssa of Valeryon, age 24

Black of hair, brown of eye

Minor houses/ small folk:

Tywin, called Tywin Surefoot, orphaned, age 11

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Ellinor, apprentice to Nina the Seamstress, age 9

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Nina, a Seamstress in Lannisport, age 28

Brown of hair, brown of eye

 **The Reach:**

House Tyrell of Highgarden:

Luthor, Lord of the Reach, age 54

Brown of hair, brown of eye

Olenna, formerly of house Redwyne, Lady of the Reach, age 46

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Mace, heir to the Reach, age 22

Brown of hair, blue of eye

House Redwyne of the Arbor:

Paxter, Lord of the Arbor, aged 22

Red of hair, blue of eye

{Mina Tyrell}, Lady of the Arbor, died at 17

Brown of hair, brown of eye

 **The Riverlands:**

House Tully of Riverrun:

Hoster, Lord of the Reach, age 24

Red of hair, blue of eye

*Minisa, formerly of house Whent, Lady of Riverrun, age 23

Pale blond of hair, blue of eye

*Pregnant with heir to the riverlands

 **The North:**

Rickard, Lord of the North, age 25

Black of hair, grey of eye

*Lyarra, a cousin of Rickard's, age 22

Black of hair, brown of eye

Brandon, heir to the North, age 1 ⅕

Black of hair, grey of eye

*Pregnant with a second child

 **Dorne:**

Elia, Princess of Dorne, age 20

Brown of hair, hazel of eye

Mors, Prince of Dorne and Lord of *Fire Field, age 19

Brown of hair, brown of eye

**Johanna, formerly of a minor branch house Lannister, Lady of Fire Field, age 19

Blonde of hair, green of eye

*Fire Field is what I'm calling the remains of Summerhall, Mors has been given the land and is building a keep on the opposite side of the ruins of Summerhall.

**Pregant with the heir to Fire fall

 **The Vale:**

House Arryn:

Jon, Lord of the Eyrie, age 30

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Jeyne, formerly of house Royce, Lady of the Eyrie, age 24

Brown of hair, brown of eye

 **The Stormlands:**

Steffon, Lord of Storm's End, age 23

Black of hair, blue of eye

Cassana, formerly of house Estermont, age 21

Black of hair, blue of eye

Robert, heir of Storm's end, age 1 moon

Did you see the surprises hidden in this index?


	21. Chapter 20

Diana had not seen winter since she was a child, yet autumn had had left them and winter began on her children's first name day, a small feast was interrupted by the white raven. The former princess had began to request a small stock pile of warm children's clothing from Nina and her apprentice, Ellinor, ever fearful her small children would catch a chill and grow sick. Her father was not well, and winter had done him no favors, the more moons passed the less letters she received from her father, and the more she received from her sister. Rhaella had given birth to a stillborn daughter, and had miscarriages before and after. She asked Diana to bend the Mother's ear for her, and joked that it seemed they both were too close with the Stranger. Diana never quite agreed to removing the tongues of the Reyne girls, but the message her husband sent was in her name. Whispers had spread, of how the Lady of Lannister had taken the Stranger into her bed, both in her husband and in sending the girl's to the Silent Sisters, who married the stranger. Tywin was cruel when he felt he had to be, and the smallfolk whispered the Stranger had blessed him for sending so many souls to him.

It took two years for winter to end, a short one compared to many, but they still prayed for a longer summer. As the chills began to lessen and the heat began to return, Diana started on her latest project: a week long festival of the Seven. It was tradition to begin spring with worship and devotion, a day for each of the divine. Day one was for the Stranger, thanking him for passing over them during the winter. Diana had commissioned a new dress for each day, and wore a black silk gown with golden lions at the hem on the day of the Stranger.

Tywin smiled down at her as they headed to the Hall of Heroes, clad in black and gold as well. Diana held in each of her hands one of her children's own, the twins toddling along. Alysanne stopped suddenly, and put her fists up expectantly as she stared at her father, "Up!" Her red silk dress had enough volume at the bottom to make her appear as though she were half tulle.

Tywin stared at his daughter with amusement for a moment, "Yes, my lady?" The child simply repeated the lone word, "Up!" He smiled, and lifted the child into his arms, only to hear his son call out, "Up!"

Both parents laughed, and Diana picked up her son, ruffling his blond hair, "Aren't we demanding, my Lord?" She teased her son, eyes bright. When Diana had forged her betrothal, she had never imagined how it would feel to be where she was now. Sure, she knew she would have children with her lord husband, but she never thought of the warmth that would come with it. The love that Diana held for her children was fierce, and just as strong for her husband. She still dreamed of the lion at the foot of the Iron throne, yet no longer clung so fiercely to it. Diana had thought contentment would come with a crown, yet found it in a hallway of Casterly Rock, walking with her husband and their children, and seeing the way he looks at her, as if she held his heart in her hands.

A/N:

Sorry it's short, I'm laying out the time skip, the kids are older, and the festival is going to herald a plot point. Thanks to those who pointed out the mistakes I made in the index, I was going to skip a year, and then realized if I skipped about two and a half, the plot would flow better, so I only fixed the ages of some characters on accident.


	22. Chapter 21

Tywin would never speak it aloud, but he cursed Ellyn Reyne and her shoddy attempts at playing the game of thrones with a hint of personal vengeance. His wife was barely two moons pregnant when he left her, and returned to see her half dead from giving birth; he was never able to see her swell with child, or furiously embroider little outfits. So when he found her sewing little socks and a coat too small for a toddler, he was overjoyed. "My moons blood is late." Her flippant tone hid the smile upon her face, the air of certainty she carried was palpable. For three nights, Tywin had watched her refuse a second glass of wine at the feasts of the Stranger, Crone and Smith, now he knew for certain why she lowered her level of alcohol consumption.

"I was thinking I would see Pycelle tomorrow, before the feast. When he confirms what I believe, the night of the Mother would be the perfect time to announce it to the realm." His lovely wife claimed, her eyes bright. He crossed the room and knelt by the hearth where she sat, and placed a palm to her barely swollen belly.

"Jaime and Alyssane will be excited." Tywin murmured, staring down at her midriff.

"And you?" Diana asked, taking his hand in her own. There was a hint of fear in her voice, as if she were unsure of his reaction.

He kissed her, fiercely. "I am pleased." Tywin said in a nonchalant tone, enjoying the tinkling of her laughter. He did not wish to leave her, not when she had announced such big news, but the feast was to start soon. The young lion did not hold as much stock in the Seven as others did, but tradition was a useful thing. Tonight would be the feast of the Maiden, and unmarried girls from across the Westerlands had flocked to the feast, hoping to catch the eye of a young lord or his heir. Those unwed girls spent the morning in prayer, the afternoon gossiping and weaving flower crowns, each becoming their own Queen of Love and Beauty. Diana was amongst them, and had a crown of red fire flowers and baby's breath waiting to be worn, with a matching single stem for him to pin to his doublet. Tradition held that the women would choose who to honor with their favor, and with winter over at last, spring was a time of betrothals, announced the next morn as they broke their fasts in honor of the Mother. Those already betrothed whose family's had stipulated they would be wed once winter was over would be joined together by a Septon on the day of the Father. This was why the last feast was the grandest, it was a celebration of many things. This Father's Day feast would celebrate Gemma marrying Paxter Redwyne, and his sister had made her betrothed a lovely boutonniere of purple flowers, bunched together to mimic his sigil of a branch of grapes, or so Diana had told him.

A knock sounded on the door, and Gwen Dayne entered the chambers. "My lady, you asked that I come to help you prepare an hour before the feast." Had they truly spent two hours before the hearth, speaking and working on the house's finances? Tywin shook his head and stood, grabbing his ornament as he went.

"I shall leave you to it then, ladies." He needed a proper shave himself, and knew that Diana would take as long as she pleased to preen herself before entering the feast, knowing fully well that they would wait for her as Lady of the House.

Tywin left his wife's solar to enter his own chambers, changing into a finer outfit for the feast. It seemed as though Diana had commissioned him a few outfit for every day of the festival, always matching hers just so. Not so much that they looked like children dressed to mimic each other, but enough of the same pattern or color to show the world they worked as one. Tywin was a strong lord, and had proven himself in war and in the wealth his house accrued, but no one would see weakness in his wife either. She was no simpering maid, but a dragon in her own right. Diana forged alliances with smiles and well timed gifts. The raven of Robert Baratheon's birth had only just arrived, yet a rider with lavish gifts for the babe had been dispensed a week prior, arriving on the day of the babe's birth.

Tywin made quick work, shaving his beard and changing into better clothing. He was ready before his wife, who had yet to appear from her rooms. So he made his way into the nursery, to ensure the children were ready. At such a young age, they usually were only present for a few courses, and then returned to the nursery for the night with their nurses. Soon, a new babe would be joining them, Tywin thought with a smile. Alysanne was dressed in a golden dress the same color as his doublet, while Jaime was in a miniature version of his own outfit. The nurses were fussing over the children, but quickly bowed when they saw their lord. Tywin ignored the women and scooped his children in his arms.

"If I may, my lord." A nurse asked, in her hands lay a flower crown about the size of his daughter's head, Dianna surely thought of everything. With a nod, Alysanne was crowned.

"My Queen of Love and Beauty." Tywin said softly to his daughter, watching her chubby hands reach up to stroke the flower on his chest.

"I thought that was my title, lord husband." Dianna teased, wearing a crown of her own. She was swathed in a scarlet gown, golden flowers blooming from her feet to her waist, across her entire skirt.

"I would crown you both, and it seems there are enough flowers for everyone." Tywin replied dryly, and earned a laugh from his wife.

"The Maiden is a fan of flowers, it seems." Diana japed, "As are most maidens." Tywin allowed her to carry their daughter as they made their way to the feast. In the hall, Gemma and Paxter were already seated, and his sister beamed as she subtly pointed out her betrothed flower pinned chest to Diana, who smiled in encouragement. His wife had been counseling her good sister on how to facilitate a warmer relationship with her betrothed, and it seemed to be working.

Everything was falling into place nicely, in two days, his sister would be the lady of her own keep, and his brother Kevan was wooing Dorna Swyft quite nicely.

A/N:

Little bit of fluff for the lovely reviewer who liked Diana's nostalgia over her kids. Also, I totally forgot to add the Stormlands to the Character Index, so they're there now, and that's why I included an update on them. Reviews give me life, so please tell me what you think!


	23. Chapter 22

The feast of the Mother was Diana's favorite night of the festival. She wore a bright white dress with silver accents of myrish lace, practically floating through the Hall of Heroes. Before the feast began, Tywin stood up and offered her his hand, and he guided her from her seat, gathering the attention of their guests. "My lords and ladies, I thank you for honoring these halls with your presence, the gods have surely been with us this week." Her husband paused as a few shouts of agreement and claps rang through the room, "Tonight is the feast of the Mother, and she has surely smiled upon us tonight, for I am happy to announce my wife, the Lady Diana, is expecting our third child."

The roar was deafening, and Diana preened at the attention. Throughout the feast, nobles would approach the couple at the head table and offer congratulations to the couple. The news also allowed her to slip away early without losing face, taking her children to put to bed personally. There were two nurses to help care of the children, but Diana did not want her children to remember comfort coming from a servant, and not their parents. Growing up, scraped knees and lullabies were all handled by Ella, an elderly servant in King's Landing. Her mother was a lovely woman, but Shaera treated her children with indifference, maternal instincts simply were not present. Perhaps it was the lack of motherly affection that made Diana coddle her children so. Although, Alysanne had her father wrapped around her finger at only three name days. The girl would never end up betrothed at the rate she was going, no man would ever be good enough to Tywin for his little girl, no alliance worth losing her. Gemma was to be wed tomorrow, and Diana had prayed to the Mother all morning that she find the happiness that Diana had found with her brother.

Paxter Redwyne was a fine match, and seemed to love to make other's laugh, while also knowing when to be serious. They would leave in a few days, Gemma wedded and bedded, officially deemed Lady Redwyne. Lady Olenna did not seem too happy about it, hoping the lord of the Arbor would wed another Tyrell cousin, but he could not seem to look at any woman of the family without pain in his eyes, seeing his dead wife. It was not love, but it could have been, and the loss stung.

Diana slept that night and dreamed of a great many things, of her sister praying to the Mother, begging for her blessing as she had the other great houses, her brother sitting atop the Iron Throne, looking as old and bitter as a man aged before his time, screaming of fire and blood, her father, leaving his crown behind to walk up the statue of the Stranger, and disappear into the stone.

She broke her fast in private, her children playing at her feet in her solar. A small leather bound journal in her hand, she recorded her latest dream, trying to make sense of it. Rhaella was praying for a child, that much was clear. House Stark, Lannister, Baratheon and Tully had sent letters of heirs or expected ones within the past few moons, winter left many couples warming beds. But her father and brother, what could they be doing have meant? Her father, there was an easy explanation, but one she would not consider. Rhaella's letters spoke of how the king had been ill more often than not, heavy is the brow of he who wears the crown.

The door of the solar swooshed open, and only one person would enter without knocking. Tywin's face was grave, his hand holding a letter with a three headed dragon stamped into the wax. "Diana…" She was not sure what he expected as a reaction from her, but his voice betrayed what he could not bring himself to say.

"Long live the king." Her voice croaked, and she began to weep. Tywin hushed her cries, stroking her hair.

"It's not good for the babe, my love." Tywin murmured, "We shall wait another day, once Gemma has been wed and the festival has come to an end. Queen Rhaella sent the fastest raven in King's Landing, she wanted you to hear the news first hand."

Diana allowed herself a moment to cry before she took a shuddering breath and slowed her breathing. The children were already appearing fussy at seeing their mother distressed, and Jaime looked about to cry. She was the king's sister now, no longer a child of the king. Her father ruled for three good years, and the crown killed him for it.

A/N:

Long live King Aerys! Jk, but yah, Jaehaerys has met the Stranger, and Diana is starting to have dreams about her brother's rule. Read, relish, review!


	24. Chapter 23

Tywin never knew his good father well, he saw him as the heir to the throne and then the man to sit upon it, so his death was more of a headache over travel to Tywin than anything. He had wed his sister to the lord of the Arbor, and announced that he and any nobles present who wished to follow in his retinue were leaving in two days time for King's Landing, to pay their respects to King Jaehaerys and swear fealty to King Aerys. In those two weeks of travel, Tywin watched his wife grieve from the comfort of her carriage, her eyes revealing less signs of tears by the day. The children travelled with her, and her handmaiden's followed in a separate coach. They had missed the funeral by about a week, but the coronation was not until two days after they arrived. Queen Rhaella greeted them graciously, Prince Rhaegar even giving a clumsy bow. The toddler looked as much like his mother as Alysanne did Diana, the valyrian blood strong in their veins.

The King had requested that they dine alone that night, allowing the sisters to catch up. Aerys was already wearing his crown, that of Aegon the Unworthy, a gaudy thing emblazoned with dragons wrought with gold and precious gems. He had employed a taster, it seemed, yet made no comment to point out the minor cuts in his food. "Lord Tywin." The King began, "My father bid me marry my sister Rhaella, yet our line has yielded only one living son." Tywin had heard the rumors, multiple miscarriages, a stillborn daughter.

"Prince Rhaegar shall be a fine heir, your grace." Tywin offered, allowing the man to lead the conversation as he drank a glass of wine.

"Yet he shall need a bride, one of Valyrian blood." King Aerys claimed, "Your Alysanne has inherited her mother's looks, she shall be a beautiful maiden in a few short years. I'd make you my Hand and your daughter a princess, and one day a Queen."

Tywin was expecting a betrothal, it was only a matter of time before his good brother gave up on his hopes for a daughter, but to make him Hand? That he was not expecting. "I would be honored, my King." They toasted to their plans and began to eat.

The venison stew was spiced perfectly, and mixed with the buttered bread and arbor gold, a gift from his other good brother. "They say all the great houses are blessed, the day of the Mother yielded ravens from every kingdom, ladies soon to be mothers, yet my sister has failed me." Aerys complained, "My father and grandfather were fools to believe the wood's witch about his children and prophecies. The Prince who was promised and the rebirth of dragons, ha!"

"I never held stock in witches, your grace. They will spin webs to catch you in like spiders." Tywin responded, but was curious, "What did she tell them, anyways?" Perhaps it was the same woman who his wife cursed in her sleep.

"That the Prince who was promised would be born of Aerys and Rhaella." The King started to eat his bread, tearing it into chunks with his fingers, "And that a dragon would only be born when the Andal Divine bled Valyrian blood for the First men."

"What a foolish woman." Tywin remarked, but made a mental note to look further into the exact wording of such a prophecy.

A/N:

And we have how a dragon comes about! And Alysanne and Rhaegar are betrothed, cause Aerys was actually a good king for the first like, 8 to 10 years of his reign, and Tywin being his good brother makes it less surprising that he is Hand. But that means a pregnant Diana being paraded in front of Rhaella, so that's Aerys being spiteful there. Plus: no searching for a Valyrian bride means Steffon and Helaena get to live, and be there for their sons. I'm thinking of having either Robert or Stannis be a page for Tywin or Kevan later in the story, since they are second cousins to Jaime and Alysanne.

Also, I am taking votes: boy or girl for baby #3? Any coloring preference?


	25. Chapter 24

Diana had forgotten how quickly words spread amongst court, a den of vipers always striking. Lady Lucina Redwyne, Gemma's niece by marriage and Diana's newest handmaiden, had entered her chambers with a tray of fruits, bread and cheese to break her fast with, and offered Diana her congratulations on little Lady Alysanne's betrothal to the crown prince, as well as being wife of the Hand. Her golden gown was not even properly laced in the back when Diana flew from her chamber and into the solar Tywin had been given during his stay. The doors slammed open, and Tywin looked up from the letter he was drafting, "I was planning to tell you after you broke your fast." His tone was demure, and infuriated her more. She crossed the room and the echo of her palm meeting his cheek was deafening.

"You promised me!" Her voice was snarling, and tears began to fall, but Diana did not care a whit. "We would wait until the children were old enough to be out of the nursery before they were betrothed! We would know our children, know enough of their likes and dislikes to give them happy marriages, not just throwing them into a marriage bed for the sake of an alliance!"

Her hand went to strike him again, but Tywin caught her wrist. "Your brother is the king, and my friend-"

Diana would not let him finish, "Your friend? You played Aemon the Dragon knight a few times in the yard as children, and suddenly he is your friend? Or perhaps he became your friend when you were knighted together, surely you both wet your cocks together afterwards as well."

Tywin stared at her coldly, and for a second she worried she had gone too far in her fury. "My father shamed my house and disrespected my mother's memory with whores, do you think I would shame you that way?" His grip tightened where he still held her wrist, yet the moment she flinched from the action his hand fell to his side. "King Aerys trusts few people, he was closer to Steffon because they shared blood, but now I am his good brother, and the trust of a king is a rare thing. We do not have to exchange letters weekly the way you and your sister do, in order to have an understanding of what friendship is."

"I hope his friendship is worth selling our only daughter like cattle." Diana bit back, "What if Alysanne does not wish to marry Rhaegar? Would you force her to marry a cousin she barely knows as soon as she flowers?"

Tywin sighed, irritation flashing in his eyes, "They shall not be strangers, they shall grow up together, as Hand of the King, she would know King's Landing from the Tower of the Hand. I thought it would please you, to be able to spend more time with Queen Rhaella."

She laughed then, cold and unfeeling, "Spend more time with the Queen? Watch her pray to the Mother and the Maiden every day so she may have what I possess? You have not seen the way she looks at me, Tywin! The more the babe shows in my womb, the more bleak her eyes become, and you would have me stay here and birth and raise my children while my sister looks on? It is a cruel trick on Aerys part, but that you would agree."

"Then go to Casterly Rock." Tywin replied, "Return when the babe is able to travel." His eyes were hooded, but matched hers in the pain shown.

"I have lost two good men to this court." Diana said after a pregnant pause, "I shall not lose my husband as well. What good is sword without a shield?"

A/N:

I keep messing up the character index (I fail), Cassana Estermont married Steffon Baratheon, not Helaena, I got the names mixed up from a fanfic I was reading about a character named Helaena Estermont who marries Robert Baratheon.

Also, bit of a fight here, Diana is hella protective of her kiddos, and Rhaella is mindful of her duty always, and sees herself as a failure for not being able to have kids.

To Diana, the offering of Hand and the betrothal are Aerys's way of punishing Rhaella for not giving him more children.

To Tywin, it is an olive branch, for them to rekindle the friendship they had as children.

I like the idea of Tywin being a sword and Diana a shield when the define their relationship because Tywin does the attacking and Diana soothes things over.

I'm thinking a baby girl, just to further make Rhaella sad, and thus distant to her sister.

As always, read, relish review!


	26. Chapter 25

Tywin knew his wife would be displeased, but he had not expected her to hold true to her family's words, she rained down fire and blood upon him. She barely spoke to her over the next moon, and stared at his hand pin with disdain over tense dinners. Still, as their child grew within her, she became more and more radiant.

The Hand of the King spent his days in small council meetings, finding Aerys to be a capable leader, despite his wife's fears. The king had managed to negotiate a larger portion of fruit and grain from the Reach for a minimal reduction in taxes, allowing their stores to refill after the recent winter. Lord Redwyne had increased the amount of Arbor Gold wine in the capital almost two fold, a gesture of goodwill towards the king's recent coronation, and to earn his good brother's praise in hopes of a seat on the small council. A Tully was already Master of Ships, and a Redwyne had been coveting the position ever since.

"Any news from your birds, Varys?" Aerys asked the newest member of the council. Varys was an interesting man, a eunuch who simpered more than he spoke, but more often than not, his words rang true.

"A raven arrived from Lord Baratheon, it seems his bride has gotten with child again." Varys stated neutrally, "While Minisa Tully has given Lord Hoster a daughter, Catelyn. Lord Richard has also written of a second son, Eddard."

Tywin watched the rage flash in Aerys eyes, but the king only nodded. His cousin, Johanna, had also had a son, who they named Jason after her father. He held his tongue with that information, knowing how the king had vied for the Queen's handmaiden a few years ago. "Send the appropriate gifts then." Tywin spoke, waving a dismissive hand. The day had been long, and he wished to return to his wife and eat dinner in their chambers, just them and their children in the Tower of the Hand.

With the council dismissed, Tywin was about to leave when he noticed the king had not moved. The room cleared out, and when they were alone Aerys spoke, "Rhaella carried a child for three moons, a son this time." His voice was cold, "She told no one she was with child, a servant found her in a bed of blood, I have confined her to her quarters, no visitors for now."

Tywin was silent for a moment, "As you wish, your grace." The Hand stood from his seat, "It would be best if this information was kept quiet, your grace."

"No one is to know, not even Lady Diana." Aerys commanded, his violet eyes hard. He stood then too, and moved to leave the room. Tywin followed him with his eyes, and watched the pieces on the board move in his mind, the game of thrones was a complex one.


	27. Chapter 27

Diana found her dreams were stronger when she was with child, perhaps it was because Valyrian blood ran in their veins as well. " _A Dragon is worth more than two commoners, your grace."_ She had dreamed herself saying the words for three nights in a row, sees her hands outstretched, her red dragon egg being offered. Diana does not know who she is speaking to, but the lilt of panic of her voice is palpable, her reluctance to call the two she spoke of commoners has her falter slightly. Who is she speaking to, and about whom?

Her hand falls to her stomach, she feels like a fat housecat rather than a lady lion, the Maester claims her child would come into the world any way. Diana hopes to dream of her child, but all she ever hears is herself speaking of dragons and commoners. Would Tywin let her give the child another Valaryian name, like Visenya? Or would he insist on a Lannister name, like Lancel? As if reading her thoughts, the babe kicks.

The Tower of the Hand has a lovely view from the top floor, but Diana finds it isolated. She has not spoken to her sister in weeks, the Queen was avoiding her. The pain that etched into Rhaella's face when she thought no one was looking broke Diana's heart. Barristan Selmy, a recent installation to the King's Guard, stood before the Queen's door and tried to carefully craft an excuse of why her sister was unavailable whenever Diana tried to see her. After a third failed attempt, and an even more pitiful excuse, Diana stopped trying.

Diana's rage at her husband had lulled over the months they had spent in King's Landing, mainly because every night he insisted on sharing her chambers, sleeping with his palm pressed firmly to her ever growing stomach, accepting every kick of their child as if it were a rare gift.

The twins enjoyed the gardens, and the lavish name day presents that the court had presented them with for their fourth year of life. It would be time to write for a Septa for Alysanne soon, though Diana was loath to have a woman whose sole purpose was to ensure her daughter become a proper lady and follower of the seven. Diana had shared a Septa with her sister, a woman named Septa Lizette, a stern woman who made embroidery sound like the most important thing a Lady could ever learn. Sure, her stitches were straight and small, but she had a seamstress for things she did not have time to make on her own. Septa Lizette had given her lessons in the form of parables from the Seven, and Diana retold them to her own children, and to the orphans she passed goods out to, finding it kept her in good standing with the High Septon and the Faith.

She stood from her desk in her solar, it was a floor below her husband's in the Tower of the Hand, and gasped when the front of her gown was suddenly soaked. Water trickled down her legs and onto the floor, and a contraction had her gasping for breath. "G-guards!" Her voice was shaking slightly, it was time to meet her child.


	28. Chapter 28

Tywin held his newborn son, his wife asleep from exhaustion in the bed beside him. Swaddled in red and black silks, a silver tuft of hair was barely visible, as fine as feathers. "Daemon." Tywin murmured to the newborn, who opened his eyes at his name. The green of his father's, but with specks of violet as well. A perfect mix of Lannister and Targaryen, so they chose a name from both their houses, Damon the Grey and Daemon the Rouge.

A soft knock sounded on the door to his wife's chambers, and he bid them enter softly. He expected a handmaiden or a servant, but was faced with Ser Barristan and the Queen. "Your grace." He stood and bowed as best he could with a babe in his arms.

"I just wished to see how my sister fared." Her smile was tight, and Tywin knew she was only there because the court would whisper if she did not visit at least once.

"Labor is hard on any woman, your grace. But Diana needs only rest." Tywin replied, and watched the pain flicker in her eyes as she stared at the bundle in his arms.

"May I?" She takes the babe from him, and melancholy fills her features, "He's beautiful, just as Rhaegar was. You must be very pleased my lord, my sister has given you an heir, a princess, and now a spare to continue your family legacy."

Tywin was unsure of how to respond, and Ser Barristan stood mutely next to his Queen, an apologetic look on his face. "The Seven smile upon us all in their own way." He found himself using a line his wife spoke when visiting small folk, it felt foreign on his tongue.

"Indeed, my lord." Rhaella said stoically, "My husband and I shall be travelling to Dragonstone for a moon, he trusts you shall keep the seven kingdoms running until he returns?" The news was a surprise to Tywin, but Aerys seemed to wish for an heir more strongly with each bloody miscarriage his sister-wife endured. Perhaps the solace of the island will do them both good.

"As you wish, my Queen." Tywin responded, and took his son back into his arms. It was not until the door closed behind her that he realized the Queen never asked for his nephew's name.

A/N:

I'm getting ready for dinner, but I thought of the perfect name for baby Lannister, and had to write this real quick. Thank you to all those who review! You give my heart joy and encourage me to write faster


	29. Chapter 29

Diana knew what she was meant to do as Lady of the Westerlands, she was all but the Queen of that kingdom, but as the wife of the Hand of the King? She was supposed to look pretty at feasts and greeted guests and courtiers in her sister's absence, but outside of that she did nothing. Diana doted on her children and waited for her husband to come back to the tower. Some days she took the children to the gardens, but the ladies of the court loved to whisper behind their hands and coo at her children as if their rank allowed them familiarity. So she avoided them all together, sneaking the babes and nursemaids into the Godswood. She held no faith in the Old Gods, but enjoyed the serenity and the fact that no one ever looked for her there.

She fed Daemon from her breast as the twins played near the roots of the grand tree, it was not a Weirwood tree, Diana noticed, but grand all the same. "Day!" Jaime said with a smile, coming towards his little brother.

Diana smiled, "Yes Jaime, his name is Daemon." She knew he was still struggling with his little brother's name, but his mother found it adorable. A little hand tugged at her braid, and Alysanne pouted from the lack of attention.

"Mama!" Her voice held the lilt of a musical voice, she was growing to resemble her mother more every day.

"Yes, little lady?" Diana asked, glancing over at her. Jaime continued to entertain Daemon as he suckled, waving his little fists as the babe followed with his eyes.

"I want cake!" The toddler stomped her slippered foot for extra effect.

"Alysanne, ask nicely." Diana replied, "Mama, may I have a honey cake?" The four-year-old only stomped her foot yet again.

"Cake?" Jaime asked, turning to Daniella, the nursemaid, to see if she held any in her basket. "Can I has cake?"

Diana laughed, "Yes, Jaime, because you asked nicely." She looked at Alysanne, who looked about to either cry or throw a tantrum. With Daemon done feeding, she covered and adjusted herself and her dress, before lifting the babe onto her shoulder to burp.

"Cake!" Alysanne commanded, glaring at her brother who was being handed a honey cake. Daniella only repeated what her mother had told the girl, "Ask nicely, Lady Alysanne."

The child began to throw a fit, demanding cake and stomping her feet, drawing muck onto the hem of her dress and all over her shoes. Diana only sighed, and passed her son to the nursemaid before promptly walking up to her daughter and giving her three good swats on her bottom. "You are a lady, Alysanne, a lioness of Lannister, and a lioness does not throw tantrums."

Alysanne began to cry in earnest for a moment, before her mother fetched a honey cake and presented it to her, "What do you say?"

"Can I has a cake, mama?" A tearful voice asked, and was rewarded with the treat.

Diana was pleased to be able to spend so much personal time with her children, especially at such a young age, but wife of the Hand was unfulfilling. Casterly Rock was without a Lady once again, while Kevan served as acting lord and Castellan, and she missed the Westerlands more than she thought she would.

A/N:

Little bit of a filler here, mainly because it's laying groundwork for later plot devices. Diana is used to running an entire keep, and now she has a tower, so she's restless. In cannon, Joanna and the kids stayed at the Rock because Aerys had a thing for Joanna, but since she is the king's sister, it makes sense that they would go to King's Landing. Diana has nothing to do though, and rarely sees Tywin since he is busy all day, so she only has her kids to keep herself busy with.

Thanks to Arianna Le Fay for checking in, I took an overnight nap instead of an hour long one, so I didn't update last night like I told myself I would haha.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N:

Bit of a trigger in here, for those who have fertility issues, heads up.

Tywin knew the line: "the King shits and the Hand wipes," yet found it less funny by the day. He had been Hand of the King for almost two years, and the sentiment was slowly becoming more and more true. King Aerys was a good king his first year on the throne, he attended small council meetings daily, even praying in the Great Sept of Baelor a few times a week for the small folk to see. Yet when he and his sister-wife went to Dragonstone and returned eight moons later, something had changed. Queen Rhaella was four moons pregnant, her smile filled with such relief. His king had confided in Tywin that he worried that the stress from court had caused Rhaella to be unable to carry a child, and wanted to remain in Dragonstone until the child was born, but Rhaella wished to return to court, to prove herself in their eyes.

Diana seemed happy for her sister, but the two still did not speak. Little Daemon's stock of silver hair had stuck, and the envy in Rhaella's eyes never dissipated, even as she was pregnant with a second child. Prince Rhaegar was almost seven name days, and had begun to learn the harp. His finger's had yet to accustom themselves fully to the grace the instrument required, but he was showing promise. Perhaps Tywin should enroll Alysanne into singing lessons, or was that something a Septa would teach? Womanly arts were a loss to the Hand of the King.

Tywin was drawn out of his thoughts as Aerys spoke before the small council, "We shall need to appoint a new Grand Maester soon. Maester Gormon has fallen ill. I am told he shall not last a fortnight."

"I shall write to the Citadel." Tywin replied, making a mental note to put forth Pycelle's name as well as a good ammount of gold. "We should also-" The lord of Lannister was interrupted by a swift knock, and a servant entering.

"My king, the queen is in labor!" The boy said hurriedly, out of breath and panting.

Aerys broke into a grin, "Lead me to my lady wife, then." The king turned to rest of his council, "You are all dismissed, Tywin, come with me."

The two men set off, Ser Hightower and a Lannister guard following a few steps behind. They entered the maidenvault, where the Queen's screams of pain echoed. A few plush chairs had been set just outside the door, so that the King and Hand may sit comfortably, with a table with wine and meats between them. Tywin poured them each a glass, "A toast, your grace, to a new prince or princess."

The goblets clinked, and the men drank. Hours passed, and Aerys became more restless by the moment. Rhaella's screams were becoming more pain infused, and at last a voice called, "One more push, your grace, I see a head!" One long screech filled the air, and then silence.

There was no sound for a moment, then a heartbroken wail pierced the room, that of the Queen. A Maester appeared from the room, and his face told Tywin all he needed to know.

"I am sorry, your grace. A stillborn boy." Tywin watched something snap in Aerys, and the chair the King sat in was knocked over in a fit of rage. He stormed down the hall, not turning back.

"And the Queen?" Tywin asked quietly, once the King had left their sight.

"I have stopped the bleeding, and given a few moons rest, she should be able to try again physically, but mentally…." The Maester trailed off, and Tywin walked into the birthing chamber. Rhaella held a child with a tuft of silver hair, blue in the face.

She wept and would not give up the child, as if her love alone could bring him back.


	31. Chapter 31

Diana had resided in King's landing for her entire childhood, she left it a maiden of sixteen, and at twenty-two, she now left it again with her three children in tow. It had all fallen apart the week before, Diana had dreamed of her sister praying to the Mother time and time again, and she had eventually run into Rhaella at the Great Sept of Baelor. Ser Barristan was standing so close to the Warrior, one might think him apart of the stone. Just like in her dream, Rhaella was weeping before the Mother on her knees. Her lilac eyes glared into Diana's sapphire, and she cursed herself for not leaving Daemon with his nursemaid. The babe slept peacefully in her arms, and she had planned to pray that the Father and the Mother look after him, he was nearing his first name day and would take his first steps soon. Diana made a habit of dressing her children in red and gold, lion motifs galore, and Rhaella's eyes glared down at the dancing lions on Daemon's little doublet. "Sister." Diana greeted levelly.

"It is your grace, my lady." She flinched at her sister's icy tone. Diana curtsied stiffly in response, muttering "your grace."

Rhaella stood, rising a full head higher than her sister, her crown glinting in the light. The crown of Alicent looked lovely atop her head, and the gaudy display made her wish she had worn her lion pendant. "I think it is time that you returned to Casterly Rock, Lady Lannister. A lion cub should be raised in a lion's den." Rhaella spoke with the same authority she used when speaking to small folk or when Rhaegar was being unruly. Diana held back a flinch at her sister's words, she was being dismissed from the Queen's household, from her sister's keep and their childhood home.

Diana did not even had a chance to form words before her sister informed her that she was dismissed. She did not even get to pray, she simply dropped her son off at the nursery and returned to her rooms. Diana wept, for the children her sister had lost, and the relationship they lost along the way.

Within the week, she had her children's things packed, as well as her own. Tywin was angered by the dismissal, but Diana was relieved. She soothed him with the promise of arranging Kevan's marriage to Lady Dorna. The Swyft maiden was a hostage, but her family had repaid their debts plus interest, and Diana would accept a modest dowry if it meant her good brother could marry the woman he loved. The wedding would give him an excuse to return to her and the children, even if it were only for a week or so.

Thus, Diana found herself travelling through Lannisport after sailing through Blackwater Bay. The smallfolk cheered, proving that Lady Dorna had heeded her instructions to continue her work with the poor and to pass out food. Diana was eager to present her son to the Lannister household, and Daemon to his ancestral seat. "Mama, lions!" Jaime called, pointing outside the carriage to the Lion's Mouth looming over them as they entered Casterly Rock.

"Yes, my love." Diana replied, "We're home." The cliffside fortress was beautiful, with the salty air of the Sunset Sea washing over the senses. She missed the Rock, it was home.

"Lady Lannister!" Kevan called, Gerion and Tygett beside him. The two youngest sons of Tytos had certainly grown while she was away, perhaps she would be arranging betrothals for them soon as well.

"Ser Kevan!" Diana replied as the carriage came to a stop, the entire household had filled the courtyard. She exited the carriage, a light golden gown with black lions dancing at the hem floated around her figure as she held Daemon in her arms. Daniella exited after her, holding the twins' hands. Alysanne was wearing a golden gown, a miniature of her mother's, while Jaime wore a red doublet and black trousers, Daemon dressed in a black doublet and red trousers.

The servants bowed and curtsied, while Kevan asked to hold his new nephew. "We've just received the raven, Gemma has a son, Tywin Redwyne." Kevan said, "He's beautiful, Lady Diana, Daemon was my grandfather's name, but the Andal spelling."

Diana grinned, "Yes, I have an ancestor named Daemon as well, in the same spelling though. Tywin and I thought it a good compromise, I have the Andal spelling of divine instead of the Valyrian version, Dyanna."

"True." Kevan conceded, and then leaned in as if to pass back his nephew, yet as he did whispered, "Did you receive my raven?"

"Of course, and I am awaiting a response, to be sent here any day now." Diana replied with a smile, "They should be honored to marry into such a prestigious house."

"It's not her family I'm marrying, it's Dorna." Kevan blushed as he responded to his good sister's teasing. He had taken quite a fancy to the Lady Dorna, she had a lovely smile.

Diana was happy for him, and the distraction his wedding would provide her from the turmoil within her own family. Tywin seemed to grow closer to her brother, and further from her. And now they would be a week's ride from each other, or three day's sail. He had promised to return to the Rock for a moon every six, but he would still be gone for half a year at a time.

She tried not to think on her husband's absence, and focused on Kevan's reports of how their house faired in her absence. Most debts that Tytos had given had been repaid or were almost fully repaid, leaving their coffers full. Diana planned on hosting a turney for her good brother's wedding, they enough spare coin to show a little wealth.

"Lady Brightheart!" A voice called, deeper than she remembered, Tywin Surefoot was a lad of thirteen name days, and had almost reached her height. "Welcome home, my lady." He bowed with a flourish before her as she passed the Hall of Heroes, where other household knights were eating their mid day meal.

"Thank you, Tywin. It is good to be home." Diana replied, meaning every word.

A/N:

Okay, so there's a good chunk of time where Tywin serves as Hand and nothing really happens, so that's going to be glossed over in about three or four chapters, until Viserys is born. In the books, Rhaella's crown is not specified, so I went with the crown of Aegon II's sister-wife's crown.


	32. Chapter 32

Tywin did not wish to see his Lady wife return to his ancestral seat, while he stayed in the cesspit that was King's Landing. But there was a fire in Diana that seemed to fade the longer she remained in the Tower of the Hand, nothing to do but raise his children and deal with two-faced courtiers. The twins needed to be raised in Casterly Rock, as true Lannisters, while the babe was too small to be away from his mother. Tywin kept to his duties, but missed the sound of laughter as his wife played with his children after dinner, and sleeping with a warm body next to him. Through letters, he learned of Daemon's first steps, of Kevan's betrothal being finalized, and of how much Diana missed him. He kept her letters apart from the others he receives as Hand, locked in a private trunk. There are a plethora of seals on the other letters, Minisa Tully has given Hoster another daughter, Lysa, while Lyarra Stark has a baby named Lyanna, even Cassana Baratheon has given birth to a second son, Stannis, this year. He waits until the end of the small council meetings to notify them of such letters, for Aerys's rage at his wife's lack of fertility leaves him to enraged to continue. Still, the kingdom runs smoothly with or without a second child of the royal family.

He thinks of his own children, and ponders Hoster Tully's two daughters, perhaps if he does not have a son, Daemon can be betrothed to his eldest, Catelyn, and inherit Riverrun. Diana would be furious, so perhaps such things can wait, there is always an heiress in every generation, and a modest keep for a second son is nothing to look down upon.

He's set to sail in the afternoon, three days on _The Lady Divine,_ a ship commissioned by Tywin a year or so back, to attend his brother's wedding to the Lady Dorna Swyft. It appeased his bannermen to see one of their own daughter's marrying into his house, especially one who owed them coin. It soothed out any remaining tension, and was a good match for his brother.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/**/*/*/*

Tywin had not seen his family for six moons, and he had never realized how much children changed in that time. Daemon was over a year old, and toddled towards him, yet seemed unsure of him as he stayed by his mother's skirts. "Father!" His five name day old twins shouted in unison, crashing into his legs before he was fully down the walk plank from the ship. Diana smiled at him, and there was a light in her eyes that had been dulled in King's Landing, relit again.

He spent the night in his old rooms, memorizing every line and curve of his wife's body, worshiping her the way he never did the Seven. The next afternoon they walked into the Sept within Casterly Rock to witness his brother's marriage. It was not as luxurious as his own wedding some years before, but it held ten courses of fine food, and a Bard had travelled from Pentos to sing for them.

The tourney was held the third day Tywin was in the West, and held a mystery knight amongst it's ranks. His armor was new, a polished silver set with a helmet covering his face, and a shield with a golden foot on a black field. He rode a black dustier, hardier than most horses, that caught Tywin's attention. "Is that one of Dark sister's foals?" He asked his wife, speaking of the wedding present Rickard Stark had given them, a fine mare Diana named Dark sister, after her family's female ancestral sword. They had bred both horses a few years back, his mount, Bright roar, had hefted quite a stud fee.

His wife grinned, "Seven hells," She looked around, and making eye contact with a visiting noble in fine silks, who was recording bets on a parchment, "Fifty gold dragons on the mystery knight!"

"Diana…" Tywin scolded, but smiled at the way she seemed to look at him with mischief in her eyes. The tilts went through round after round, hedge knights and second sons falling to more experienced riders. The final four came down to Gregor Clegane, the mystery knight, Gerion Lannister and a hedge knight, from a minor branch of house Brax.

Gerion fell to the hedge knight, while Ser Gregor narrowly lost to the mystery knight. The hedge knight was announced to be Steffon Brax, and he kicked his horse towards the foot knight. The lance splintered into Ser Steffon's chest, and he bit into the dust. The mystery knight with the foot shield rode forward, and Kevan stood as the groom. "Good Ser, you have won the tilt! I give you the right to crown your Queen of Love and Beauty and ask for one boon, should be in my power, I shall happily give it!"

With bated breath, the audience watched him gather the crown of red roses onto the tip of his lance. "It is not you, that I ask a boon of, but that of Lady Brightheart." The voice of the mystery knight was familiar, and it bothered Tywin that he could not place it. Slowly, the knight rode to the right side, where Kevan's family, and thus Tywin, sat. The lorel of flowers was placed upon his wife's lap, and the turney grounds fell into a hush, "Lady Brightheart, I ask you honor me by accepting the title of Queen of Love and Beauty, and give me the boon of accepting me as your sworn shield."

Whispers broke out, only to be silenced as his smiling wife replied, "And tell me, good ser, to who is asking to guard the Lady of Lannister?" The mystery knight removed his helm, to reveal a head of brown hair, Tywin Surefoot smiled up at them from atop his horse.

"A man who owes his lady his life," He replied, "Tywin Surefoot, squire for Ser Addam."

Diana smiled at the boy, before turning to him expectantly. "Knight him, and accept him into your service." She whispered, and they rose from their seats together.

"Tywin Surefoot," Tywin held out his hand as a servant ran forth with a blunted tourney sword, he tapped each of the boy's shoulders, "I knight thee, Ser Tywin, and accept you into the service of house Lannister, as the sword shield to Lady Diana." The small folk screamed and cheered, while the fifteen year old before him blushed.

A/N:

So, I have this beautiful idea of Diana having a diehard loyal guard (who's pretty much the Arthur Dayne to Rhaegar, or the Brienne to Catelyn) in the form of Tywin Surefoot, an orphan who would be nothing without the kindness showed to him by Diana. So, this is how he gets knighted and gets the honor of guarding a lady of a great house, at such a young age. A turney boon can be anything, so it's a great show of wealth on the Lannister's part, also a tactic to soothe their bannermen.


	33. Chapter 33

With every moon that passed, Diana fell further into her routine as Lady of the Westerlands. With Tywin gone, the household turned to Diana to make any executive decisions, and Kevan when she could not be found. She missed her husband but knew that she had no place in King's Landing, especially not now. When her Daemon reached his second name day, a raven arrived, Tywin apologized for not arriving for his son's name day celebrations as promised, but that Queen Rhaella had given birth to a living son, Prince Jaehaerys. There were no announcements of her carrying for fear of a stillbirth, only one when the child lived. It stung Diana to think that her husband had missed his son's name day for their nephew's birth, but Tywin valued his position as Hand of the King above all else.

Diana began to visit the Stone Garden in Casterly Rock, for at night she dreamed of a Weirwood tree without a face, and she suddenly fell blind. The dream always awoke her with a start, and the fear of blindness that struck her before her eyes adjusted always gave her a chill down her spine. A book by a Maester Gormon spoke of the belief of the Old Gods, and how they were believed to see through the faces of the Weirwood trees. Beneath the stone-faced Weirwood, she composed a note beneath the marble bench that seemed to ages older than her. Diana was not sure what to say, for fear of Lord Stark thinking her a fool, so she chose her words carefully. She spoke of how Jaime needed a playmate, someone to learn swordsmanship and brawl with, as his brother was too young and Alysanne busy with her lessons with her Septa. His son Brandon was only a year younger than Jaime, and she was sure the two boys would get along should the Stark boy be fostered at the Rock. It was a shame his daughter was so young, barely six moons old. After cementing the terms she offered of fostering, including giving Brandon a foal of the very horse his Father had gifted the Lannisters, Diana asked for a small boon of a Weirwood tree sapling, one old enough to survive were she to plant it near other trees.

Diana knew better than to ignore a dream that startling, and headed out of the garden of the Old Gods and back to her chamber to seal the letter with her personal stamp. Diana's solar was her solace, with three banners hanging behind her desk, that of house Lannister and house Targaryen framing her personal sigil, the same banner Nina's mother had gifted her for her wedding. She sealed the letter and went to deliver it to the new Maester who had replaced Pycelle after he rose to Grand Maester, a man named Creylen. "A swift and sturdy raven please, Maester." She requested, took the incoming letters addressed to her or her house.

One was from Olenna Tyrell, inviting her and her children to a feast for her son's name day. She implied that there would be many lovely Tyrell cousins who would make lovely brides for her sons, which Diana scoffed at. The day a lion pinned a rose to its mane was the day she hatched a dragon. Returning to her solar, Diana stared into the hearth. The dragon's egg was the only thing she had left of her grandfather, and the lone dream she had after his death of him was the dead king instructing her to bathe a dragon in fire, fire, and blood. So she kept the ruby egg in her hearth, always keeping a fire lit around it. The servants that whispered about it claimed it an odd superstition, a product of their lady's birth house.

Diana could watch the flames rise and fall for hours, her fingers longing to brush the egg's scales, heat be damned. A serving maid just about drops the tray containing her dinner as she calls out to stop her, "My lady!" The silver-haired woman blinks once, twice. Her eyes focus and she realizes her fingertips are brushing the scales of her dragon's egg, the fire doing no harm. She retracts her hand as quickly as though she had been burned, but finds no mark on her skin.

She digs into her pocket quickly, pulling out a silver stag, more than the maid would be paid in the month, and pressed it into the girl's hand. "Thank you for dinner, Alla, and your silence," Diana says softly, a paranoid part of her whispers that she could have spent the same amount and simply killed the girl, but silence can be bought without death, she hopes. Even a rumor of Diana obsessing over her egg for playing with fire could bring her ruin. Too many of her kin had died in flames, and she would not be counted amongst them.

A/N:

A Little bit of a time skip, moving things along to the Defiance of Duskendale in a few chapters.

100 followers, omg you guys. I love each and every one of you, you give me hope and muse.


	34. Chapter 34

Prince Jaehaerys looked a lot like his brother, the crown prince, when he slept. Surely, that is what the babe appeared to be doing. At six moons old, Jaehaerys was a sickly thing, and breathed his last in a fitful night of sleep. The baby's birth was supposed to herald a new beginning, Tywin had watched the King and Queen grow closer at their son's birth. The relief and joy in Rhaella was palpable, and he contemplated bringing his own family back to court, perhaps have another child of his own. But then the baby prince gew ill, at barely a moon old, and never fully recovered from the illness. Aerys had stopped attending small council sessions when the babe grew sick, and returned to them the day after his son had passed. The suspicion in his eyes as he roved over the men before him had Tywin gritting his teeth. Recently, a eunuch named Varys entered their ranks, a foreigner with spies throughout the city, if not the entire realm. His little birds, as they were called, were hard to spot, but Tywin weeded a few out of his own household and kept vigilant watch for another.

The funeral for his nephew by marriage was to be today, an intimate affair consisting of the court, nicely dressed in freshly black silks. Queen Rhaella looked desolate, her eyes blank as she stood before her son's casket. Tywin briefly wondered if the Queen wished for such a public display, her other dead children never say the light of day, though the Prince had lived, unlike Princess Shaera, Tywin learned the stillborn girl Rhaella had was named after her grandmother, the Queen Mother who now resided on Dragonstone. King Aerys watched the crowd of fake mourners with a steely expression, Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the King's Guard ever vigilant behind him. Varys brought whispers of those not satisfied with the king, and he was happy to spin tales of treason to the king to prove his worth. The Lord of Duskendale had been tenacious enough to seek a charter from the king, giving him the same rights that Dorne had on imports and taxation, a proposal Tywin shut down immediately. Tywin blamed his foreign wife, a woman too ambitious for her own good, and eager to step up in the world. Another Ellyn Reyne, who overplayed her hand.

The death of his son had broken something in Aerys, and fueled the rage he felt to any who threatened the dynasty that he was powerless to add members to. The king was sterner in his punishments, even punishing children as if they were adults. An eight-year-old boy had been sent to the watch for stealing a loaf of bread for his sister to keep from starving, and Tywin thought of his wife's sworn sword, of how he and his sister were once orphans. Diana had a soft spot for bastards, children, and broken things, it was her way, and Tywin allowed her to give tax breaks to bakeries in Lannisport who have their surplus to the septas to distribute to the poor the next morning. Yet in King's Landing, the small folk starved in the streets.

Aerys had no qualms with his subjects growing distressed with the lack of food in the city from the closure of the King's Road that occurred the week before, closing all travels in and out of the main gate for three days and leaving crops to rot before they could enter the city. Varys had whispered of unrest coming up that road, spies hidden in the servants, delivering steel and not food.

After the funeral, Tywin would leave court. He missed his lady wife, and his children had grown without him there to guide them. For a few moons, he would stay at the Rock, perhaps bring Jaime and Alysanne back to court with him to be playmates for Rhaegar. The crown prince looked glum standing next to his mother as they accepted condolences from the court. Lord Jon Arryn was speaking in hushed tones with Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lord Rickard Stark, and Aerys seemed to notice as well. The three men quickly ended their conversation and came forward, Rickard being the first to speak. "My condolences on your loss, your graces. May your Seven bring you peace." Tywin knew he followed the Old Gods, as every Stark did.

The two other lords quickly followed suit, and gave apologies. "Lord Hand, may we speak for a moment?" Rickard asked him, and Tywin nodded and stepped away from the royal family to give them privacy. The Lord of Winterfell motioned a lad of about six forward, the spitting image of Northern looks, his heir most likely. "My son Brandon, has travelled with me. We were on our way to your seat, my Lord, but heard of the prince's passing and came here to pay our respect."

Tywin thought back to Diana's most recent letter, " _Jaime is need of a playmate, and I have written to a select few on warding their heir."_ Tywin thought she meant a bannermen of theirs, not the heir to the North. "You have reached terms with my lady wife, then?" Tywin asked, and received a nod.

"Aye, Brandon was looking forward to training with Lord Jaime and your master-at-arms." Rickard replied with a slight smile, "It is a shame Lady Alysanne is already betrothed, although my Lyanna is only five years younger than your Jaime."

The North held little military advantages, and the West had little need of furs or anything that could be traded to and fro. "Jaime would be a man grown long before she flowers, but our heirs may be life long friends." Tywin offered politely.

"Of course, my other son Ned, shall be warding in the Vale with Lord Steffon's heir." Rickard supplied, and Tywin kernelled the information away for a later date. Fostering was a step towards lifelong alliances, the next one marriage.

"I'm sure they will become fast friends." Tywin replied, growing bored with the lord before him, he needed to make sure the King did not act too cruel to his Queen, the whispers had already begun of such things.

"And please tell Lady Diana that the tree has been planted, and that she has my thanks for her permission." Rickard spoke once more, before excusing himself and taking his son to meet more of the nobles of each realm. What tree was he talking about? Diana sometimes spoke in riddles when she wrote, afraid of letters falling into the wrong hand. Perhaps his next trip home would be more informational than leisurely.

A/N:

Debating if I want to start the Defiance of Duskendale in the next chapter, or the one after.


	35. Chapter 35

Diana was surprised when Tywin asks her to bring the children to King's Landing. His words are a suggestion, but the tone hidden within is a command. The twins had just reached their tenth name day, Daemon his seventh and her ward Brandon had turned nine the moon before. The ride is not too long, a week or two at most, but Diana has made it a moon long venture, stopping at the bannerman of every house of the West. They began their journey the day before, and decided to spend the night in the Clegane's keep. Lord Gregor's wife had given him two sons and a daughter, Gregor the second, Sandor and Elaine. Little Gregor is not so little anymore, the boy is eleven but has the body of a sixteen year old at the youngest. Diana felt foolish, giving the boys wooden toys to play with as gifts, but Sandor seems enraptured with them. After the feast, the children are shooed off to play while the adults speak. Brandon and Jaime had grown thick as thieves over the few years of fostering, and Diana wrote to his father every few moons with glowing reviews.

She had indulged in a second glass of wine, and her fuzzy senses almost write off the screams as drunken men making bawdy conversations. But the flash of silver-gold hair at the doors to the hall and the teary shout of "Mother!" have her on her feet before she can blink. Jaime is sobbing, still half a child no matter how Tywin may wish for his heir to be a man grown. Diana crouches before him and soothes him by running a hand through his mop of spun gold, the perfect mix of his father and mother's coloring.

"Jaime, darling, what is it?" Her son was not one to weep, yet here he was bawling like a babe in the cradle.

"S-sandor!" The boy bawled, "Gregor pushed him in the fire!" The look on Lord Clegane's face is more embarrassed than worried for his son, and Diana lifts her skirt with one hand and takes her child's hand in the other.

"Take me to him." She orders her son, before turning to glare at the Lord of the house, "Fetch a Maester, now." With a swish of silk, mother and child walk away from the silent hall. Sandor is clutching his face and weeping, the smell of burning flesh tinges the air. Brandon is holding the sobbing child, as Gregor picks underneath his fingernails, sitting in a chair as if nothing a miss.

"How dare are you!" The blood is singing in Diana's ears, demanding retribution.

The heir of Clegane shrugs, as if nothing were wrong, "He tripped and fell into the fire."

"Liar!" Brandon breaks in, and lunges for the boy thrice his size. "He was playing with the toys Lady Diana gave to them, and Gregor got mad he was playing with both of them. He did not even want them!"

 _Fire and blood. Fire and blood._ The words hum in the air, and the lady of Lannister does not even blink. "Guards." Her voice is cold and distant, and Ser Tywin and a few guards enter. "Ser Tywin, please, take Sandor to the Maester and the boys to their rooms."

She thanks the Seven her daughter did not witness anything, having gone to bed early after a long day of travels. Her son and his companion did not need to see what she is about to do. Gregor goes to leave as well, but when Diana shakes her head a faceless Lannister soldier grabs his arm. "Seize him, properly." Three men hold the boy still, his size giving him strength but not skill.

"Which hand did you shove him with, or did you use both hands?" Diana asks, and when the boy spits at the floor instead of responding, the lady glares at him. "I'll take both then." A torch is lit on the opposite side of the fire, spreading even light to the room.

She nods to the guards, and they present the struggling boys hands. When she moves the torch below his wrists, the screaming begins. The flames lick eagerly, and Diana does not blink as his fingers turn black. She waits until his hands are completely charred before removing the flame. "Send him to the cells beneath the keep, the Night's Watch shall take him in the morning.

A/N:

I love the Hound, and he had to have his due.


	36. Chapter 36

Tywin knew it was the right decision to call his family to King's Landing mainly because of the rumors surrounding his wife's journey to him. The tame version was that Gregor, the heir to house Clegane, had burned himself and his little brother in a brawl gone wrong. Others claimed that Sandor was burned maliciously by his brother and Diana was so appalled that she turned into a dragon and breathed fire onto the little lord.

Diana had lived unchecked for too long, letting the power go to her head. The Clegane's were their most faithful bannermen, and could not be torn apart as the Reynes and Tarbecks had been. Loyalty should be rewarded, not punished, Diana herself was the one to push such things on him during the early years of their marriage. Yet now his children were older, and it was time that Alysanne grew closer to her betrothed and Jaime learned to rule as a lord should. Aerys was already breathing down his neck as to when his daughter would flower, as if he controlled when his daughter became a woman. Prince Rhaegar remained their only child, and was almost a man grown himself. Queen Rhaella had travelled to Dragonstone the day after she heard that her sister was heading to King's Landing. The Queen Mother, Shaera, was said to be of poor health and as her eldest daughter, Rhaella was excused to take care of her. Diana never spoke of her mother, except for when she spoke of her own parenting, and how she refused to be like her mother, a great lady but a horrid mother.

Tywin sat atop his horse, waiting for his lady wife to enter into the Red Keep, her golden carriage slowly plodding into view. His son and his ward rode atop twin black war horses, the colts of Diana and Tywin's own steeds, and Tywin could not help the pride in his chest at the sight of son riding as easily as if he were walking. Brandon Stark was said to be a fine horseman, and his equestrian skills had been shared with Jaime, Diana wrote that the two were the best of friends. There was a third boy riding with him, wearing a hooded cloak of a golden color, three black dogs on his back. He could not see his face, for the hood was up and bandages wrapped most of the boy's face, but he knew who rode with them, Sandor Clegane. The boys and their guards rode in first, and upon closer inspection, Tywin recognised the small, even stitching on all three cloaks the boys wore, each in their house colors and with their respected sigils, Diana had been busy sewing on the trip it seemed.

"Lord Father!" Jaime called, spurring his horse forward. His companions seemed nervous, seeing the Lord of Lannister and Hand of the King for the first time atop his pitch black steed, but Jaime only saw his father. "May I introduce my companions, and the wards of house Lannister, Brandon Stark and Sandor Clegane."

The lines were rehearsed, but the words were what was expected and his son did well. "My lords." Tywin nodded to each in turn, "I welcome my wards and family to the Red Keep, the servants shall lead your items to the Tower of the Hand, where my household stays."

Tywin Surefoot bowed to his lord quickly before dismounting his own horse and walking briskly to the stopped carriage, offering his hand as the handmaidens exited. Next came Septa Rayanne, then his daughter. Alysanne had grown in the time Tywin had been gone, every time he saw his daughter, she looked more and more like her mother. The otherworldly beauty of the Targaryens glowed in his daughter, and reminded him of Diana when they were first wed. Alysanne was clothed in a crimson silk dress, lions and dragons upon the hem, and for a moment Tywin thought it was her mother's old dress. Diana followed her daughter, and grinned brightly at him, wearing a golden gown with black lions and golden dragons prancing.

"My lord," Alysanne curtsied before her father, the picture of grace. Her lavender eyes were alight, her silver hair piled into braids atop her head.

"Lady Alysanne, you are a vision." Tywin replied, and dismounted his horse to stand at eye level. The boys followed suit, and Tywin watched the Clegane boy attempt to further cover his face.

Tywin offered his arm to wife to escort her, and he helped to lift her up onto the horse that had been readily saddled for her arrival. The Hand of the King wished to take his wife for a short ride before they entered the keep. "Septa, please escort the children to the Tower of the Hand." Tywin ordered, climbing back onto Bright roar.

Daemon seemed about to protest, but Diana pinned her son with a no-nonsense look, "We shall have luncheon when I return, sweetlings. We can eat in the gardens and perhaps invite the prince." Alysanne blushed, but her brothers seemed satisfied with the answer. A chorus of 'yes, my lady' and 'yes, mother' resounded from the children, and Tywin began to motion his horse forward.

They rode side by side in silence in a few moments, waiting until they were away from prying ears. "You sent one Clegane boy to the Wall and took the other as a ward, Lord Gregor was not pleased to lose both his sons in one night." Tywin stated, watching his wife struggle to keep her face neutral.

"Jaime and Brandon watched that monster press his little brother into a fire pit for playing with toys that _I_ gave them. Sandor is heavily burned, Tywin! He will bear those scars for the rest of his life!" Diana snapped at him, the same unstable rage in her eyes that he saw in Aerys more and more with each passing moon.

"So you turned into a dragon and set him alight?" Tywin quipped, "My family made the Clegane's a noble house, and you seek to undo that with what you have done."

"I have donned a lion's mane for more years than I have been a dragon, Tywin. What was it the Bards sing, with fire and blood, Lord Tywin roars? It is my house those words come from, and that boy deserved what happened to him." Diana replied sternly, her tone biting.

"To be sent to the Wall? Or to be burned?" He asked, and for a moment she looked ashamed.

"He showed no regret for his actions, and spat at me when I asked why he did it. Sandor is seven, Tywin, and he may lose his eye to the burns, and has wept every night from the pain. I held the torch beneath the boy's hands to give him the same pain. I took no pleasure in the action." Diana said quietly after a moment, "I didn't know what I was doing, Tywin. The thought struck to give him a taste of his own poison, but once the flame met his skin, I just couldn't stop."

"When a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin, and the world holds its breath." Tywin replied, "Your coin fell on it's side, Diana. It's up to you whether to be mad or great." Her eyes were shining with tears, and she knows she must face her actions.

"I'm sorry, Tywin." She murmurs, and he only nods at her.

"Kevan can run the Rock while you are here, perhaps King's Landing shall do you some good." Tywin had summoned her for selfish reasons, yet they had bore fruit. The relationship between the King and his Hand was becoming estranged, and Tywin selfishly hoped that Diana's presence would give Aerys a different target for his unrest. Yet now, Tywin knew that his wife needed his presence to balance her as much as he needed her to balance him. A sword and a shield, united again.

A/N:

So a small time jump is coming up, then it'll slow down again. So Diana totally overstepped with the Mountain, and Tywin did not appreciate her maiming the child of one of his bannermen. Tywin is the Lord, and thus should have been the person doling out punishments that severe.

But now the Hound is a ward of Diana's! Sandor is in my top five favorite characters, so I had to save him from his brother.


	37. Chapter 37

Diana used to love King's Landing, playing in the great hall at night once court was finished, hiding in dragon skulls and looming behind bones. When the children were but babes, she wished for them to grow up in their father's ancestral home, not hers. Watching Alysanne ride her pony to Lannisport to see Nina and Evelyn to pick out silks for dresses, Jaime and Brandon in the tilting yard, crossing wooden swords, little Daemon sitting in her lap in the library, begging for another story about Lann the Clever or Daemon the Grey. It was a childhood filled with joy, a brighter one than she had.

Yet here she was, back at square one. Sandor's wounds had healed nicely, and once there were no need for bandages, Diana coaxed him into not hiding his face. " _Scars are signs of strength, not shame."_ She had told the lad, and his brown eyes watered.

The children and she had been in the capital for about a year, and Diana knew that the time for her children to be just that, was almost over. Prince Rhaegar's name day was in a fortnight, he was already a man grown in the eyes of Gods and men, turning seventeen soon. Alysanne at fifteen, was a late bloomer who had yet to flower, much to the King's ire and the Queen's pleasure. Aerys wished them to be wed as soon as Alysanne became a woman, much to Diana's displeasure. Her first born was to be a man grown in a few turns of a moon, Jaime at fifteen was a better swordsman than even his father. Spending the year and a half in King's Landing had been good for her children, allowing Alysanne to grow used to court and her betrothed, while Jaime was able to refine his swordsmanship skills with boys his age and the King's guard.

Daemon was a fine archer, but could not hold a sword properly to save his life. He could hit a target from across the keep, though, and Diana had made sure that tourneys included archery contests from then on out. Daemon found solace in the large library of King's Landing, and enjoyed reading softly to himself while his father worked in his solar. Tywin was grooming their second son to be a lord just as much as he was Jaime, and he and Diana had been in talks with the Tullys, whom currently only had daughters. A Lannister running the Riverlands would be dream for her husband, but Diana only cared that this Catelyn was good to her son.

Diana almost wished for another child, the nursery was empty within the Keep as of late, but knew that her sister would only be enraged at the fact. Aerys had grown more and more tempermental as of late, and looked at Alysanne like she was the source of his misfortune. Her daughter took after her in looks, with Valyrian coloring and high cheekbones, but with her father's nose. Alysanne was a demure maiden, not as fiery as her twin, a Lady of good breeding and etiquette, always remembering her courtesies.

When her daughter came into her solar in tears, Diana was perplexed, Alysanne was never a crier, even as a babe. Daemon, who sat by the fire and was reading of the Doom of Valyria, looked just as startled as Diana was. "Alysanne, darling, what is it?"

"The king!" She cried, and Diana was holding her in an instant, stroking her silver mane and soothing her until she could speak again, "Prince Rhaegar was playing his harp, and asked me to sing, so I started singing the Rains of Castamere, Father said I sing it oh-so-pretty."

Diana took a deep breath, her husband had mentioned having luncheon with the prince and King, and had invited her along as well, but she was busy and sent Alysanne in her stead. Her daughter was besotted with her betrothed, and Diana wanted her to be happy, praying Rhaegar's coin landed on greatness and not madness.

"What about the king, sweet sister?" Daemon piped up, his book forgotten as he looked towards his weeping sibling. Daemon had his father's cunning, and loved to watch people.

"He said that I sang like a dying cat, befitting of a serving lion." Alysanne blubbered, her tears dripping into Diana's shoulder.

"Alysanne," Diana began, her tone stern but soft, a feat only a mother could achieve, "Do you know why you are betrothed to the crown prince?"

"Because she is the most beautiful maiden in the realm!" Daemon replied with ease, and his sister blushed. She knew in a year or so, Daemon would be breaking hearts across the realm with his charm, second son or no.

"That," Diana acquiesced, "And because the prince is an only child, and the King believes that the bloodline must remain pure."

"Then why am I not betrothed to Jaime, if we should marry brother to sister?" Alysanne asked, her tears calming.

"Because madness brews in inbreeding." Diana whispered, and drew her children closer to her, "This does not leave this room."

When they had both nodded, Diana continued, "You are the best bride because you are my daughter, a silver lion with the blood of the dragon in your veins. The Queen cannot bear more children, so one day you shall give your husband many children."

She turned to her son, "Jaime shall be lord of the Rock, but you, Daemon, can be many things. You can be Castellan, like your Uncle Kevan, or you may marry an only daughter and be given lands of your own."

"If we are so great, why does the King say such things? The Queen is jealous, so I understand her coldness, but why her husband?" Alysanne asked, playing with the hem of her pale silver gown.

"Because greatness cast shadows, and men do not like to stand in the shadow of someone else." Diana said simply, "And my children cast the greatest shadow of all."

A/N:

Little bit of family time and a bit of a jump. Defiance of Duskendale is next chapter! I updated the character index, since there are a few characters that shall be introduced in the next ten or so chapters that haven't really been mentioned.


	38. Updated Character Index

**The Royal Family:**

Seat: King's Landing, Dragonstone

King Aerys the Second, husband and brother of Rhaella, age 37

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Queen Rhaella, wife and sister of Aerys, age 36

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Crown Prince Rhaegar, son and heir to Aerys and Rhaella, age 17

Silver of hair, purple of eye

 **The Westerlands:**

The Lannisters of Casterly Rock:

Tywin, Lord of the Westerlands and Hand of the King, called the young lion, age 36

Blonde of hair, green of eye

Diana, formerly of house Targaryen, Lady of the Westerlands, called Lady Brightheart and Lady Divine, age 34

Silver of hair, purple of eye

Jaime, heir to the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, age 15 years

Pale blond of hair, green of eye

Alysanne, a Lady of house Lannister, called the Silver Maiden, age 15 years

SIlver of hair, purple of eye

Daemon, second son of Tywin and Diana, age 11 years

Silver of hair, green of eye

Kevan, second born son of Tytos and Steward of the Rock, age 35

Blond of hair, green of eye

Dorna, formerly of house Swyft and wife to Kevan, age 32

Blond of hair, blue of eye

Tygett, third born son of Tytos, knight of house Redwyne, age 30

Blond of hair, green of eye

Gerion, fourth born son of Tytos, recently knighted, age 22

Blonde of hair, green of eye

House Banefort of Banefort:

Quenten, Lord of Banefort, age 36

Black of hair, brown of eye

Alyssa, formerly of house Velaryon, Lady of Banefort, age 33

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Talla, daughter of Alyssa and Quenten, age 12

Black of hair, blue of eye

Brent, heir to Banefort, age 10

Black of hair, brown of eye

Minor houses/ small folk:

Tywin, called Tywin Surefoot,sword shield of Diana, age 20

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Ellinor, apprentice to Nina the Seamstress, age 17

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Nina, a Seamstress in Lannisport, age 38

Brown of hair, brown of eye

 **The Reach:**

House Tyrell of Highgarden:

Olenna, formerly of house Redwyne, Lady of the Reach, age 56

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Mace, Lord of the Reach, age 33

Brown of hair, blue of eye

Alerie, formerly of house Hightower, age 24

Blond of hair, blue of eye

House Redwyne of the Arbor:

Paxter, Lord of the Arbor, aged 33

Red of hair, blue of eye

Genna, formerly of house Lannister, age 27

Blond of hair, green of eye

Tywin, heir to the Arbor, age 7

Jane, daughter of Genna and Paxter, age 4

 **The Riverlands:**

House Tully of Riverrun:

Hoster, Lord of the Reach, age 35

Red of hair, blue of eye

Minisa, formerly of house Whent, Lady of Riverrun, age 34

Pale blond of hair, blue of eye

Catelyn, heir to the Riverlands, age 14

Red of hair, blue of eye

Lysa, second daughter of Minisa and Hoster, age 12

Red of hair, blue of eye

 **The Stormlands:**

House Baratheon of Storm's End:

Steffon, Lord of Storm's End, age 35

Black of hair, blue of eye

Cassana, formerly of house Estermont, Lady of Storm's end, age 33

Black of hair, blue of eye

Robert, heir to Storm's End, age 16

Black of hair, blue of eye

Stannis, second son of Cassana and Steffon, age 14

Black of hair, blue of eye

Renly, third son of Cassana and Steffon, age 1 moon

Black of hair, blue of eye

 **The North:**

House Stark of Winterfell:

Rickard, Lord of the North, age 36

Black of hair, grey of eye

Lyarra, a cousin of Rickard's, age 33

Black of hair, brown of eye

Brandon, heir to the North, age 14

Black of hair, grey of eye

Eddard, second son and ward of the Vale, age 12

Brown of hair, grey of eye

Lyanna, only daughter of Lyarra and Rickard, age 11

 **Dorne:**

House Martell of Sunspear:

Elia, Princess of Dorne, age 34

Brown of hair, hazel of eye

Quentin, Prince consort of Dorne, age 33

Brown of hair, brown of eye

Doran, heir to Sunspear, age 18

Brown of hair, brown of eye

Elia, said to be frail, daughter of Elia and Quentin, age 14

House Martell of Fire Field:

Mors, Prince of Dorne and Lord of *Fire Field, age 31

Brown of hair, brown of eye

*Johanna, formerly of a minor branch house Lannister, Lady of Fire Field, age 30

Blond of hair, green of eye

Jason, heir to Fire Field, age 14

Brown of hair, green of eye

Annalyse, daughter of Johanna and Mors, age 13

Blond of hair, green of eye

*Fire Field is what I'm calling the remains of Summerhall, Mors has been given the land and built a large keep, called Fire's Den.

 **The Vale:**

House Arryn of the Eyrie:

Jon, Lord of the Eyrie, age 41

Brown of hair, blue of eye

{Jeyne}, formerly of house Royce, Lady of the Eyrie, died at 27 of a winter chill

Brown of hair, brown of eye

A/N:

So I know that house Martell of Firefield needs a cadet branch name, any suggestions?


	39. Chapter 39

The day before the Prince's name day, Tywin awoke at dawn, as he always did. He garbed himself in a doublet with his wife's stitching of his sigil on his breast, as she often sewed with other ladies to hear gossip. When he passed his daughters chambers on his way to his solar, the sound of frantic sounds came from within. He stopped and knocked three times before hearing her voice call for him to enter.

Alysanne jumped when she saw her father, expecting her chambermaid to be returning with the proper items she needed. "F-father!" Her voice shook with embarrassment, and Tywin narrowed in on the blooming red stain on the waist of her nightgown. Rumors had already whispered, as they were wont to do, of how his daughter had yet to flower at fifteen years. Diana assured him that she was a late bloomer, she herself did not flower until just before her fifteenth name day, hence why she was unbetrothed at sixteen when they met. A surge of relief filled him to see his daughter enter womanhood, but also a sense of fear that his little girl was growing up too fast. His lady wife had been rather instant that they bed almost nightly the past fortnight, and he wondered if she had dreamed of this event or if it was mother's intuition, their children were not children anymore. In two moons, Jaime would enter adulthood at sixteen, while his daughter was a woman freshly flowered.

"I apologize, Alysanne." He said after a moment, broken out of his thoughts by the sound of the door being knocked upon again before a servant came in, with rags and a bowl of warm water. "I shall allow you to ready for the day."

He stepped out with a smile, heading back to his personal chambers rather than his solar. Diana was not pleased to be awoken an hour before she normally rose, but she had to know. "Alysanne's flower is blooming." The wording was awkward on his tongue, but he was not sure how else to phrase it. His wife seemed to pale at his words, a hooded worry covering her.

"Oh." Was all she said, frowning. Her silver mane was knotted and wild around her as she sat up in their bed, "I should go to her."

"Rest, my lady. Her maid is with her now, and I shall send one of her handmaidens to her." Tywin reassured her, but Diana got out of bed anyways.

He watched her undress and begin to slip a silk shift to wear under her dress on when he rose to leave. "Shall we share a midday meal together, with the children as well."

Diana smiled at that, "Sandor and Brandon as well?" His wife had taken in quite the brood with those two, they constantly sparred against each other and were like wild dogs at times.

"Very well." Tywin allowed, and left his wife to get ready. He was set to break his fast with the King, Queen, and Prince that morning, with Alysanne and Jaime joining him. The Queen had made it clear she wished to see nothing of her sister and was cold to her niece and nephews as well. Thus, Diana ate with a few ladies of the court and ignored her sister's snub.

"Good morning, Lord father." Jaime greeted, his voice cheerful for the early hour. Brandon Stark walked with him, but only stopped to bow slightly at Tywin before continuing on.

"Lord Lannister," Brandon said formally, passing the father and son. "I'll see you in the tilting yard, Jaime!"

Jaime and Tywin stood for a moment in silence before the sound of silk swishing could be heard. "She takes as long to get ready as a princess." Jaime japed, causing her father to smile slightly. Alysanne appeared bedecked in a gown as silver as her hair, golden thread depicting trees and flowers across her shoulders and hem, the newest southern style.

With the twin in tow, Tywin headed to a small hall where the food would be served, finding Aerys and Rhaella already there. The Lannisters sat down, and they waited for the crown prince. "Your grace, there is something I need to discuss with you." Tywin began, catching the attention of both king and queen.

"If this about Duskendale, I'll hear no more of it!" Aerys snapped, already in a mood. Queen Rhaella looked drawn but sat mutely by her brother and husband.

"No, your grace. Lady Alysanne's red flower has bloomed." His voice was soft, but his daughter heard his words and turned bright pink. "Preparations for the royal wedding may begin."

"My son will not want to fuck a bloody cunt." The king drawled, earning gasps from the two women in the room, "The wedding can wait for now." Jaime looked as if he wished to draw his sword, and Tywin felt rage build in him at the slight.

Prince Rhaegar entered the room just then, and the tension in the air was palpable. "I apologize for my tardiness, my lords, my lady, your majesties." The silver prince greeted, looking at Alysanne with concern. His daughter was holding back tears, which only seemed to enrage her twin more.

"No need to apologize, my prince." Tywin replied with a tight smile, "Join us, let us begin."

"I decide when we eat." Aerys demanded, "Sit boy, the Queen and I have news to share." Rhaegar seemed used to his father's snappy attitude and followed instruction without complaint.

Tywin stared at Aerys for a moment, waiting for him to speak. "The Queen is expecting, the Maester say she carries like a girl." His smug tone had Tywin reeling. What was he implying? That his daughter, a woman grown and flowered, would be set aside for a babe that would most likely not live past infancy?

"Congratulations, your grace." Tywin pointed his voice towards the Queen, her smug smile confirming Tywin's suspicions. "I shall be sure to spread the news on my journey West. Jaime is almost a man grown, it is about time I taught him how to be lord of the West." The lord of Lannister said evenly. His rage was boiling beneath the surface. Let the King watch his fail to give him another child, and let him crawl to Casterly Rock to beg for Alysanne's hand for his son. Let him crumble without a lion to guard his throne.

A/N:

Eyyyy, and Duskendale is about to begin. So Rhaella is pregnant with Viserys, who will be born right after Duskendale. Also, the reason why Catelyn is being regarded as heiress to the Riverlands is because her brother is a baby when she gets married, so without a brother, she is seen as the eldest living child of the lord, and thus the heir.

Thanks to for pointing out I forget to put Oberyn in the character index, I spaced. He is in this story and arrives in a few chapters.


	40. Chapter 40

Diana had ravens flying to and from Casterly Rock, preparing for their journey. The tower of the Hand was being packed up, Tywin refusing to remain as Hand of the King when Aerys refused to make good on the betrothal promised to him for over ten years. A week after the Prince's name day feast, Alysanne ran to her mother, once again in tears. Prince Rhaegar had come to see her, and tell her that she would make a lovely bride for a lord one day, for his father had all but said that Alysanne was not Valyrian enough for a Queen. Diana stewed in her anger, staring into the fire that lit her personal chambers, and the red dragon egg sitting in front of her. Her dreams seemed stronger when the egg was burning the hearth in the same room she slept in. Tywin did not approve, but made no move to stop her. " _A dragon's life is worth two servants, your grace."_ The dream repeated itself, every night. Sometimes there were things before it, a wolf howling and a dragon's screech, sometimes as her words echo, the vision fades and she sees thorns enveloping the antlers of a stag, roses blooming and choking the animal as it rages, falcons descending to sink their claws into a rooster's back. Diana was not a fool, she knew her dreams spoke of war.

Which was why Diana sent a letter written by her own hand and using her personal sigil with Brandon as he rode to Winterfell. Jaime was going to learn to rule the West, and Brandon must learn to rule the North. She had shed a few tears as she hugged her foster son goodbye, "Winter is coming, but you shall always have a place at my hearth, sweet summer child." She had whispered into his tunic, the boy had grown into a man a head taller than her.

They were to leave for Casterly Rock, for home. Her carriage was being readied, and she was looking forward to stopping at the seat of house Brax, and seeing Alyssa's children, they had surely grown as much as her own had in the years since she saw her friend last. Tywin entered her chambers with a tired smile, "I handed the King my hand necklace, we leave in half an hour."

"How did he take it?" Diana asked, taking her eyes off her cooling dragon egg to look at him.

"As well as to be expected. He ignored my advice and has told the servants to prepare a small retinue, he wishes to deal with Duskendale in person." Tywin replied wryly. The lord of Duskendale had stopped paying his taxes, and they were a moon late. The Hand wished to rain down fire and blood but the King scoffed and said only a dragon can do such a thing, not a lion. So Aerys was visiting the defiant lord himself, bringing only a small retinue of servants and only his favorite of the King's Guard, Sir Gwaine Gaunt.

"And the Martells?" Diana continued, the Princess of Dorne had arrived with two of her three children in tow, Elia and Oberyn. She presented them to the court, looking for good matches. The girl was a frail and flat chested thing, but she had a lovely, warm smile. Oberyn was rambunctious and spent more time in the tilting yard than even Jaime, and the two had been sparring nonstop since the prince's arrival. He was a good lad, but third in line due to Dornish laws of inheritance.

"Lord Frey has sent a missile to them, offering a bride with her weight in silver for either prince, but their mother scoffed at it." Tywin drawled, "Much like you did when he asked for Genna's hand."

Diana smirked at her husband, "I was a wild, young thing then." The amusement reflecting in Tywin's green eyes makes her smile.

"You still are a young, wild thing, Diana." Her husband tells her, before reminding, "We need to leave soon, the sooner we leave this cesspit, the better." Diana nods to him, and from the dying embers she reaches for her egg, cradling it in her palms.

"Will you open the box?" She asks, and Tywin opens the sturdy box of oak that is lined with black silk, custom made to house her egg. It fits snuggly, and the scale skims Tywin's palm as Diana releases it, and he almost drops the box.

"Seven hells, Diana!" Tywin exclaims, dropping the wooden keeper onto the floor and grabbing her wrists, inspecting her pale hands. They aren't even pink, yet a blister is already forming on Tywin's wrist where the scale grazed him. "Your hands...they aren't burned."

Diana laughed, but it had a forced edge to it, "Tywin, the bottom of the egg is probably scorching, that's why I held it from the top." She did not though, she cradled it like a child, but he is mute to contradict her.

"Let's go home." He says after a moment, and picks the box up to leave it with the last bit of their things to be collected by the servants. With that task done, he offers her his arm. "Any word from the Starks?"

"Brandon should be in Winterfell soon, so there should be raven awaiting us at Casterly Rock." Diana replied, "We should have our answer then." She prayed that Rickard would answer her request with the response she wished.

A/N:

What did the letter say? Hehe….

Also, I am opening a poll, to be answered in a review:

Should Daemon:

Marry a Whent heiress and become Lord of Harrenhal?

Or

Marry the daughter of Johanna Lannister and Mors Martell and become Lord of Fire Field? (their son would die in the war, making Annalyse heiress)


	41. Chapter 41

A moon after Tywin left King's Landing, a small escort bearing the royal banner entered the lion's mouth. He stood waiting to greet them, keeping a smug smile at bay. Prince Rhaegar came personally, it seemed, to beg for his forgiveness. He would give it, after a bit of grovelling, of course. It was strange though, that they would arrive before dawn. Nonetheless, when a servant informed him that scouts from Lannisport spotted them, he readied himself to greet them. As he walked to the spot he now stood, he heard the servants whisper, it was said that today was the day the dead walked the earth, spirits guiding other lost souls to solace. Tywin thought it ridiculous.

"My prince." Tywin greeted, bowing only the amount that was required. The silver prince dismounted his horse, and Tywin was surprised to see him riding a sand steed.

"I have come in great haste, my lord, on my mother's behalf. She could not make the journey herself, so I come in her place." Rhaegar began, "The King is being kept prisoner in Duskendale, and the Queen bids you rescue her kingly husband."

Tywin processed the information, and shook his head. The king was a fool, to ride into his enemy's home with such small escort. "What are the Lord's demands?" Not that he would heed them.

"He wishes for his land's own independence. I would not be surprised if he styles himself as King of Duskendale as well." Rhaegar said with a sneer.

"We shall siege them then." Tywin replied flippantly, "After the wedding, of course." The surprise on Rhaegar's face had Tywin feeling rather smug.

"And whose wedding is that, Lord Lannister?" Rhaegar asked defiantly, his voice tight. "My father has already said I shall wed my sister."

Tywin shook his head, "The King will be dead before you wed a babe not yet born over my daughter." The escort included Ser Barristan, who stared hardly at him. "Lady Alysanne is a maiden of valyrian blood, grown and flowered. What if you have a brother, my Prince? Your father promised my daughter a crown, and you shall fulfill that oath. In three days time, you shall wed my daughter in the Sept of Casterly Rock, and once you two are wedded and bedded, we shall depart with a host of my men to siege Duskendale and rescue the King."

"And if I refuse?" Prince Rhaegar tested. Tywin smiled cruelly at him, and shrugged.

"My men shall still march, but gathering an army takes time, and moving them such a distance? Well, who knows how long it could take so many men to march so far…" Tywin trailed off, and saw he had his nephew pinned.

Rhaegar grit his teeth, and nodded, "Lady Alysanne shall make a fine bride, and a wonderful Queen one day, like the good Queen before her."

"Wonderful!" Tywin said with mock cheer, "I shall have your horses seen to and your men seen to chambers to rest, eat and drink." The servants seemed to pour out of the castle at their lord's words, guiding the horses and men to where they needed to go. "Come, nephew, I shall show you to your chambers personally."

They were the last people in the courtyard when they heard a haunting voice, "Alysanne, Alysanne, where have you gone, my love?"

Tywin felt a chill go down his spine, he knew that voice, he heard heard that voice sing his children to sleep as babes. "Diana?" He rushed forward, and there, coming out of the woods of the lion's mouth, was his wife. Her cloak covered her shoulders, but her purple eyes were rimmed with red, staring into the distance, her hair matted with twigs and her slippers in tatters, feet cut from stones and bleeding into the earth. Tywin grabbed her shoulders, shaking her roughly, "Diana? Diana, by the Seven, woman!"

"Tywin?" She finally said, but collapsed into his arms.

He cradled her to his chest, eyes wide. Rhaegar stared at them, and then focused his eyes over Tywin's shoulders and paled as if he saw a ghost. Tywin shoved past the prince and headed to the Maester's towers.

A/N:

Next chapter, Diana's POV leading up to this point lol


	42. Chapter 42

Diana knew she was with child not only because her moon's blood was late, as well as the active endeavors with her husband when they were in King's Landing a moon ago, but because the intensity of her dragon dreams. When she awoke in the middle of the night to find the fire roaring in the hearth, her egg all but glowing, she was transfixed. In nothing but her nightgown, she approached the fireplace, and gasped when a voice called to her, one oh so painfully familiar, " _Diana…"_

"Grandfather?" Her voice was shaking, she was a woman grown, not a scared child. Then again, when her grandfather had passed, she was but a child herself. A silver silhouette danced in the shadows of the flames on the wall of her chamber, a man with a crown. He beckoned her to follow, and the moment she grabbed her cloak to wrap around herself, the flames breathed up the walls and snuffed out as Diana left the room. The world seemed hazy, almost as if she were in a stupor, and she followed the shadow that looked like her kingly grandfather, through the twisting caverns of the Rock, deep into the bowels and into passageways that had not been in use for years, and Diana found herself in the woods outside of Lannisport.

" _Diana…"_ The shadow called, " _Andal Divine…"_ The edges of her vision were but hazes, and she barely felt the pain in her feet as her slippers were torn as she stumbled in the dark woods, guided only by a silver silhouette.

An enclosure appeared in the distance, a shoddy hut made from fallen trees, slanted and enclosed by trees. Her grandfather let her to the small home, if one could call it that. She paused at the door, should she knock? When the door opened on it's own accord and she stepped in, the fog on her mind lifted and she took a step back in fear, her hand instinctively falling on her stomach.

"At last, you have the sight, so you do see." A voice so familiar to one she heard a child haunted her ears. She was before a wood's witch. Diana glared venomously at the woman, and turned to leave, but the old hag spoke again, "My sister tried to warn him, in the end the king did not listen. Only a true dragon can hatch an egg, and he was not."

Diana wanted to lash out at the woman, but her hands shook to heavily for her to do much other than stare at the witch darkly. "Why have you brought me here?" She asked, "It was a cruel trick."

The wood's witch laughed, "That was no trick, milady. On this night, spirits wander on their own accord. You chose to follow his spirit to me, so now you must ask yourself why you wished to come here, or moreso, why did your grandfather lead you to me?"

Diana pursed her lips and stared sourly at the woman, her mind reeling. The cotton like fog in her mind when he lead her here, she thought on his few words, mere whispers. "What is Andal Divine?"

"Who is Andal Divine?" The witch corrected, "I am Maggy the Frog, and who are you?" She stared pointedly at Diana, her hooded eyes boring into her.

"Diana Lannister of the house Targaryen, Lady of the Westerlands." Diana said with conviction, but her the witch only waved her hand as if for her to continue. "Lady of Casterly Rock and wife to Tywin Lannister, the young lion. Mother to Jaime, Alysanne and Daemon."

Maggy the frog sighed, "Perhaps you do not see, Aegon was clever, insisting on the old Andal spelling for your name, your father insisted on naming you Dyanna, but the King insisted, his granddaughter was to be the Andal Divine one day."

Diana stared at her in shock, her grandfather was always superstitious, he was just as enthralled with Lady Jenny's witch as Lady Jenny herself, the king took her prophesies for truth, no matter how cryptic. He had insisted she marry an Andal Lord, now that she thought of it, he said that First Men were to barbaric for such a Valyrian beauty, and that she would freeze in the North. "How clever of you." Diana finally bit back, "And my grandfather, I suppose, if one believes in prophecy."

"But it was not prophesy that brought you here today, you seek to have questions answered, and I can answer them. For a price." Maggy the frog drawled, her webbed fingers reaching out to the Lady. "For blood and a song, I shall answer three questions you seek to be answered."

Diana glared at the woman, but proffered her wrist, and the woman slashed into the junction of her wrist with a fingernail, drawing a hiss from her. Maggy's tongue swiped across her bloodied fingernail, and her eyes flashed. "What do you seek to ask?" Her voice seemed different somehow, darker and older.

"Which gods are the true gods?" Diana asked, cradling her wounded wrist.

"There are many gods, the Old and the New are but mouthpieces to the same mummer. You have restored the sight of the Old in the South, and for that they owe you a debt." The witch's voice was the pitch of an old man, ancient and filled with wisdom.

"My husband wishes my Daemon to wed into house Whent, and become Lord of Harrenhal, but the land is cursed." Diana told the witch, "How can the curse be lifted?"

"Fire and blood rained down during the Dance of Dragons." A feminine voice informed, "I, or rather, Rhaenyra, cursed the land that defied the dragon, only with fire and blood can the land be yielded against the curse."

Diana pondered her third question for a moment, "I've dreamed of sitting on the Iron Throne with a lion at my feet since I was a child, what does it mean?"

"You live as a lioness, but have the blood of the dragon. Only when you are reborn as you were meant to be, shall you be crowned Queen of Andals, Rhoynar and First Men." A legion of voices spoke then, the valyrian lilt prominent, and for a moment Diana felt as if her ancestor's were looking down on her, judging her.

Had she disappointed them? For being a Lannister more than a Targaryen? She had spent more of her life in her husband's household than her father's, so it was natural that she be a lioness. Maggy the frog broke her out of her thoughts, "I am owed a song, Lady Brightheart."

The fog descended once again, and she found her voice singing words to a song she had not heard since she was a babe in the nursery, "Alysanne, Alysanne, where have you gone, my love? Atop your sweet Silverwing, riding into the night...Alysanne, Alysanne, the good Queen lost to me, Alysanne, Alysanne, where have you gone my love?"

Her voice was haunting, and Maggy the frog looked about to weep as she began to lead Diana through the forest, the haze around her seemed the thicken with each word she sang. The mist around the forest hung thick around them, and in the distance, Diana heard a voice calling her name. "Diana? Diana? By the Seven, woman!" Hands gripped her shoulders, and she blinked a few times. Maggy the frog was gone, and Tywin was shaking her a bit to roughly, a wild look in his eye.

"Tywin?" She asked in a daze, collapsing into him.

A/N:

So there's a supposedly sad song called "Alysanne," that is mentioned in the books, but never given lyrics to. Since Diana named her daughter, Alysanne, I gave a little context as to why she chose that name. This was actually my favorite chapter to write so far, so I hope y'all like.


	43. Chapter 43

Tywin had to admit, he was rather proud of himself, today his daughter would become a princess, and later in life, a queen. Diana was still a bit shaken from the events of a few evenings before, and Prince Rhaegar would not say what he saw, while Diana only said that she had met a witch who told her how to erase the curse of Harrenhal. Tywin had snorted at that, and Diana pinned him with a fierce glare for it. The Maester had bandaged her feet and suggested that perhaps something had been slipped into the Lady's wine, and suggested he hire a taste taster as the King had for the Queen.

The lord of Lannister waited outside his daughter's room, hearing his wife speaking softly. He had no doubt Diana was crying, as she often did at momentous moments in her children's lives. The door to the chambers opened, and Tywin was struck back to his own wedding, seeing Alysanne in her mother's wedding dress. The lions and dragons on the silk gleamed with the jewels embroidered on the cloth, and Tywin was glad to see his daughter wished to wear her mother's wedding gown rather than have her own commissioned.

"You are a vision, Aly," Tywin said softly and watched Diana share a smile with her daughter.

"Thank you, father," Alysanne replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice. She took her father's arm and he leads her to the Sept, Diana trailing behind. When the doors opened a single harp began to play, and Tywin escorted his only daughter to her bridegroom. Rhaegar was wearing a doublet emblazoned with his house sigil, and Ser Arthur Dayne stood a few feet behind him, bedecked in his white armor and holding a black cloak, no doubt meant for the bride.

Tywin presented his daughter and stepped to the side, waiting for the Septon to speak so he may take his daughter's cloak. The man was a Septon his wife worked with, Walton or Walder, something like that. He simply called him Septon. "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The man proclaimed, and Rhaegar reached gently to Alysanne, removing the roaring lion cloak and handing it to Tywin. The two shared a tense glance, but his daughter was all smiles as Ser Arthur gave his best friend the cloak to wrap around her shoulders.

"Father, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Smith, Warrior, Stranger, I am his/hers and s/he is mine." The couple said in unison, and the Septon proclaimed them Lord Husband and Lady Wife. The kiss was chaste, and for that Tywin was happy.

At the feast, Tywin sat next to his wife. With her feet still bandaged, she did not dance but sat by his side. "It's strange to think we shall be doing this again so soon." Diana commented to her husband, "Lyanna Stark has flowered, and her father has agreed that she shall marry Jaime before winter begins."

"We have been blessed with a long summer, the fall is still two years away from the Maester's claim. That is long ways away." Tywin replied Lord Stark had been adamant that his daughter is fifteen when she wed. "If anything, Daemon shall be wed before Jaime. Lord Whent has agreed that he shall name the Lady Lynda his heir, with his eldest son dead and his younger son in disgrace. I have agreed to have Harrenhal restored to its former glory in exchange for allowing Daemon to remain a Lannister, and sire Lannister heirs to Harrenhal." Diana had a dark look crossed her face at the mention of Harrenhal, and he knew it was because of the curse.

"I'm sure it will be a wonderful seat once it's cleared of ghosts," Diana muttered darkly. Her eyes lightened though once she changed the subject, "Lord Rickard really has outdone himself, giving his daughter to the lions and catching his son a fine trout."

Tywin chuckled at that, "Lady Catelyn shall make a fine bride for Lord Brandon, shame she has a little brother now. Lord Steffon has also betrothed his son to the other Tully girl it seems."

"Oh?" Diana asked Tywin knew that she had been meeting to go to Storm's End and visit her cousin, but never seemed to have the time. "Robert fostered with Brandon's brother, Ned. They are forming close ties."

"That's why Lyanna Stark shall be the next Lady of Casterly Rock." Tywin replied, "The great lords and royal family shall be united by blood." He was happy to have gotten Lord Rickard to agree to the betrothal, considering Lord Steffon had also offered his son Robert for Lyanna's husband. The ambitious lord saw the wealth of the West and made the right choice.

"And have you decided who this one shall wed?" Diana joked, resting her palm against her slightly present stomach, swollen with child. Tywin smiled at her, a sense of pride filling him at the idea of another child between his wife and him.

"Perhaps little Lord Renly could be given Castamere to rebuild, should it be a girl." Tywin japed, halfway contemplating the idea.

His wife laughed but was not looking at him, and he followed her gaze to his daughter and her husband, dancing. They spend a good portion of their lives together and thus were not strangers when they were wed. There was so much happiness in Alysanne's face, a small tiara with a lion and a dragon emblazoned on the center crowned her silver hair as she danced with her prince. Rhaegar was nearly as enthusiastic but played his part well enough.

Tywin had refused the bedding ceremony, no man would touch his daughter except her husband. So as the dance ended and the guests got deeper into their cups, the couple slipped away. He hoped his daughter would give her husband a son as soon as she could, to ease the King's anger to find his son wed to Tywin's daughter.

They would ride out tomorrow, and lay siege to Duskendale and Tywin would rain fire and blood down upon Lord Darklyn, and the seven kingdoms would hear the lion roar.

A/N:

And that's what was in the letter!

So, for the tourney of Harrenhal, it's not just gonna be a tourney, but a wedding! The kingdoms will gather for the large display of wealth on Tywin's part as Daemon is wed to Lynda Whent and becomes heir to Harrenhal, which will be decursed. This also means that the rebellion starts about two years early, but I'm still including Daenerys in this story, so yeah.


	44. Chapter 44

Tywin had the last laugh in the end, Rhaegar received a letter from his mother three moons into the siege of Duskendale, he had a younger brother, Prince Viserys. Alysanne had not fallen pregnant from the lone night she spent with her husband, and it made Tywin itch to call for his daughter to come to her husband, but a babe conceived in a war camp was no future king. So he waited out Lord Darklyn, while Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur protected their prince, who stared darkly at the tower his father was held prisoner in. It was the same haunted gaze that Diana held when she stared into the fire at her dragon egg, and Tywin idly wondered if it was a Targaryen trait. Surely, the melancholy within the prince was inherited, for no one could quite brood like a Valyrian.

On the fourth moon of the siege, Barristan presented him with a plan befitting of his name, it was bold. With Ser Gaunt dead in the fight that captured the king, the Selmy Knight was the unspoken leader of the King's Guard, and wished to earn his title. Tywin warned Lord Denys that if he did not surrender by nightfall, he would hear the lion roar with fire and blood. The lord of Duskendale had laughed at his demands, and refused to yield. So Tywin allowed Ser Barristan to do his daring rescue. The man wished to avenge the man who brought him into the fold and presented him his white cloak, and Tywin warned him that should the sun rise without the king, the siege engines would rain down on the castle.

Yet just before sunrise, two figures appeared from the south gate, and the crazed look in one of the man's eyes confirmed all he needed to know. "Wake the men, we storm the castle at dawn." He ordered his squire, Sandor Clegane. He had taken the man on as a favor to his wife, yet found the youth to be quite able to perform the tasks asked of him, while his brute size warned others away, the Hound made for a good guard dog.

King Aerys had a beard that was snarled and wild, uncut and unwashed for moons. He seemed a shadow of a king in that moment, his purple eyes wide and his scratchy voice demanding, "Burn them all!" Tywin said nothing to the man's demands, only escorted him and the knight who rescued him to a large tent where the king could be bathed and brought back to a regal state.

Aerys refused to let servants tend to him, leering at them as if they were hiding knives, and Ser Barristan was forced to help the man wash. Tywin silently promised to ensure the Selmy man was properly rewarded, and made Lord Commander of the King's Guard as soon as Aerys was sitting upon the Iron Throne once more.

Tywin walked away from the squawking king and toward the prince's chambers. Ser Arthur Dayne was standing outside the royal tent, appointed by Rhaegar in his father's absence to the King's Guard, as a way to soothe the Dornish. Queen Rhaella had promised her old handmaiden, the Princess of Dorne, that her daughter would wed Rhaegar if she had a son, not thinking that Tywin would defy a royal command and demand his daughter for Rhaegar's bride.

The Sword of the Morning glared at the lion lord, and Tywin stared unflinchingly at him as he passed and went into the tent. "Your father is resting, my prince." Tywin announced, the fidgeting prince only stared at his reflection as he fixed his armour.

"Is he well?" Rhaegar asked, "Alive and unharmed?" Rhaegar's armour was bedecked with rubies forming the three headed dragon, a lavish display of wealth that would do him little in battle.

"He was kept in the dungeon of the South Tower for five moons, he is as well as can be expected." Tywin said cryptically. The dark look Rhaegar gave in return revealed his understanding of the message being told, the king was unstable.

The two men walked together to where the men prepared for battle. Each mounting their war horses, they rode to the vanguard. With one wave of his arm, caches of wildfire pelted the wooden gate that held Duskendale closed. The walls themselves were stone, but the wood was old and dry with age, and the flames made quick work of the once thick wood. Soldiers stormed the keep, and the family of Darklyn and Hollard were presented on their knees before the prince and lord of Lannister. One woman was defiant even as her knees were slammed to the mud, and Tywin saw Ellyn Reyne all over again. Lady Serala was a foreign born woman who the spies and servants whispered caused Denys to go rogue, the woman stroked his ambition as much as his cock.

A flash of white appeared in the corner of Tywin's eye, and he turned to see Ser Barristan and the King riding atop horses of their own, Aerys glaring daggers at the prisoners. "Kill them all!" Aerys demanded, pointing to a small boy in particular. "That bastard pulled my beard!" An arrow rained down, jabbing the boy in the neck. The king turned to the archer, grinning with glee. "Give that man ten gold dragons."

The king chose different punishments for the prisons, the distant kin of houses Hollard and Darklyn were to be hung, the men were publicly decapitated, and the soldiers were given the women to use as they pleased, so long as their bodies were found hung with the other's come morning. Lady Serala received the worst punishment of all, her feminine parts mutilated before she was burned alive at the stake in the main courtyard of the keep, her good family hanging around her.

The king was so focused on his revenge, he did not ask after his queen or his new child until that night. "You have gained a son as well as a good daughter, my king." Tywin told him, "Prince Rhaegar wed my daughter, as was promised so many years ago, while your wife has given you a spare, a second son."

Aerys threw his wine goblet at the words, screaming of traitors. Rhaegar spoke before Tywin had a chance, "I made the vows of my own will, Father. The Lady Alysanne is a valyrian beauty, and shall make a fine queen." Hearing Tywin's own words from the prince's mouth felt strange, yet calmed the king only enough that he only looked suspiciously upon others, and did voice them.

"We leave for King's Landing in the morning. When you return to the West, I expect my good daughter at court." The king sneered at Tywin, and though it was a dismissal, he knew he had won. Without a daughter to betroth his son to, Alysanne was the closest the king would find to a valyrian bride.


	45. Chapter 45

When Diana rode into King's Landing with her family in tow, she listened to the cheers of the small folk, who heralded the Lannister's as the saviours of the realm for rescuing their king. At eight moons pregnant, she was happy to recline in the carriage and take in the praise. Alysanne looked at her with a slight envy, but she assured her daughter there was plenty of time for her to have a child, the whispers at court be damned. She had laid with her husband one night, Diana and Tywin had years together to have their three children, and the two on the way. The Maester had told her it was common for mothers of twins to have more than one set, the body grows accustomed, he claimed.

Yet the wide smile her husband cast her as he helped her from the carriage made her feel twenty years younger, and she was reminded of when she was pregnant with Jaime and Alysanne. "Your carrying rather large." Tywin said in greeting, and Diana chortled.

"I take it the raven telling you of twins did not arrive?" His smile widens, and her question is answered silently. "How is the little prince?"

"A strong babe, but a boy nonetheless." Tywin replied, and placed his palm on her swollen stomach. They shared a loving glance before the King and Queen arrived, as well as five of the seven King's Guard. Diana thought it a bit of overkill, but then again the king was held captive for nearly half a year.

"Sweet sister," Aerys crooned, and Diana noted that his beard and fingernails were jagged, had he not cut them since he was held captive? "Fat with child once more, I see. Yet not your daughter."

The jab was souring, and Diana resisted the urge to glare at her brother. Her sister stood mutely, the babe in the nursemaid's arms, her eyes locked on the child and not Diana. "They were wedded and bedded, dear brother, they shall have many warm nights to come I am sure."

Her sons stood on each side of her, while Alysanne had walked to Rhaegar's side, she had worn the tiara Tywin smithed for her as a wedding present every day since she received it. "I'm sure my household is weary from travel, let us have them shown to their chambers." Tywin commanded, yet Diana noted with relief that he had no sigil of the Hand on his clothes.

"After they have been searched and their weapons removed." Aerys commanded, drawing a glare from both the lord and the lady of Lannister. Diana had not realized the rift between her husband and her brother had grown so much.

"As you wish, my king." Diana bit back, and with a slight curtsy dismissed herself. Daemon followed her while Jaime went to speak with Sandor and Alysanne to her husband. She was surprised when she asked to be led to her solar that she was led to the Maidenvault, another jab on Aerys's part. The fire had been started in the hearth, and a jug of wine and water were on the table with a couple goblets. Daemon helped himself to a glass of wine, and watered it slightly when he felt his mother's stare. He sat on one of the chairs before her desk, and watched his mother sit in her own seat.

"What is Lady Lynda is ugly?" Daemon asked, "I have never even met her, and we are to be married next year. What is she is a beast, with small teats and six feet tall?" He was fifteen, but had his mother laughing with his childish imagination.

"Then once this beast has bore you a son, we slip some poison in her wine." Diana japed, and watched her son pale, "Or perhaps Lady Lynda is a beauty just as her sister Minisa is, with pale blond hair and blue eyes." Diana knew it was true, and her son seemed comforted at her words.

"Your seat shall be Harrenhal, my little dragon." Diana continued, "You are welcome to go visit it, and your betrothed as well."

Daemon blanched, "I don't want her to think I already like her alot, going to see her in front of her whole family to court her!"

"Then don't visit to court her." She replied, "Go to Winterfell with your brother, stop in a variety of keeps and make a tour out of it, spending coin to make the small folk more endeared to you, and be there to get an honest impression of Lyanna Stark for me, not the love sick puppy version your brother will tell."

Daemon perked at that request, and Diana knew it was because her son was the inquisitive type, who liked to read and listen before he spoke. He would make a grand Maester had he not been born a Lannister. "You'd have me spy on Jaime?"

"No, of course not." Diana reassured her son, "I would have you let me know of the next Lady of Casterly Rock, if she is worthy of the name Lannister." She had drilled the importance of family into her children, of the worth of a name and carrying on traditions.

"Shall you ask Jaime of Lady Lynda as well?" Daemon prodded, thinking over his mother's words. Of all her children, Daemon had the Lannister cunning.

"No, I already know I need to of your betrothed." Diana teased.

"Alright, I'll do it for you mother." He said after a moment, and Diana smiled.


	46. Chapter 46

Tywin grew to hate King's Landing after the Defiance of Duskendale, the King insisted that Tywin was needed in the West and had not renamed him as Hand. Yet Diana was due for birth at any time, and thus was unable to travel. The Valyrian names she had selected were daring, a direct jab if looked at in the wrong light. Yet who was he to refuse the mother of his heirs, his Lady? Sure, servants scuffling in with that horrid smelling spiced milk that she never seemed to get enough of was loathsome, the delight in his wife's eyes was worth it.

He was trapped in a court that he no longer held power in, and the sooner his wife and children were able to travel, the better. Jaime and Daemon had already left for Winterfell, planning on stopping at Harrenhal, the Eyrie, and even Riverrun along the way. His wife had sent them with a caravan of goods, acts of good will towards the other kingdoms. His wife had a calculating look in her eyes, the same as before his father died.

He left his heavy wife to rest for the day, the Maester wished for her to remain a bed until she gave birth. Tywin no longer held an office, but worked as an advisor, a demotion that left him little room to complain, he had just as much power now as any lord, and the slight sent him reeling. Queen Rhaella appeared in a swirl of red and black silk, looking out of place in her own house's colors. "Lord Lannister." She greeted, "There is something we must discuss."

Tywin offered his arm for escort, and he guided them through the gardens. Varys no doubt has his little birds watching them. Five servants had been publicly executed the first week that the King returned to King's Landing, and from what his spies whispered, there was a much larger body count behind closed doors. "Yes, my queen?" Lord Lannister asked as they took a leisurely stroll.

Her voice was soft, lyrical yet aged beyond her years, "The King has grown wary of those around him. My chambermaid was burned to death yesterday, a spy according to Varys." Tywin kept his face neutral, even though the woman had been a spy in his employ, the Spider was growing more bold, and the king as well if she had been burned. "I am not allowed to be alone with my son, while his nursemaid must prove that her teats do not have poison on them before the prince may eat."

"The King is simply mindful of the prince's safety, my queen." Tywin replied dismissively, "After what Lord Darklyn put his majesty through, one could hardly blame him." Rhaella fixed him with a cold stare in response.

"Of course, as he is with that of his sister's." Rhaella replied, and for a moment Tywin felt a threat in her words. "Funny, that your wife and daughter's rooms are in the Maidenvault, no?" His office was just outside, as well as his personal rooms. What Tywin had written off as a power play, a way of keeping them slightly apart, but not so much that one could complain, was suddenly a real plot. King Baelor had wed his sisters, and trapped them within to keep himself from temptation, hence how it got the name: Maidenvault.

"Yet Princess Alysanne spends her nights in the Royal Apartments, warming her husband's bed." Tywin bit back, letting his ire show for but a moment before he was a blank slate once more.

The queen was silent for a moment, and when she made sure there was no one near by, she whispered, "Aerys dreams of being Aegon the Conqueror the come again, a true dragon with a harem of sister-wives. Diana needs to leave this city, Alysanne as well." There was a true concern in her face, but Tywin knew the ploy well enough.

"And leave you as the only powerful woman in court, with a son who has yet to have an heir by his Lannister wife, the daughter you could not have." Tywin shook his head, "You are truly foolish, Queen Rhaella, if you believe that outwardly displaying your hatred of your sister for years will suddenly ring false with a single cry of worry."

The queen stared blankly at him for a moment, and tears welled her eyes. "I have envied my sister for years, and I have been cold towards her, but never have I hated her."

"Your sister would believe differently, as well as the rest of the realm." Tywin bit back, and would have continued if a servant had not appeared before them in the gardens, seemingly searching for someone.

"Lord Lannister! Lord Lannister!" The boy was no more than ten, a page with the sigil of house Redwyne, a nephew of the Lord of the Arbor, taken in as his page last year. "The Lady Lannister has gone into labor, and is demanding her lord husband!"

Queen Rhaella said nothing, only frowned and waved her hand in dismissal as she walked away from Tywin and the Redwyne lad. "Take me to my wife." Tywin commanded, and they set off the Maidenvault, a place Tywin slowly began to hate.

A/N:

What's gonna happen? Any guess as to the names I have picked out? Was Rhaella honest? This chapter is through Tywin's point-of-view, and he has a biased perspective.


	47. Chapter 47

Diana was not sure what to think, staring into the eyes of the three eyed raven. As she rose from the bed she lay in, there was no pain, and an echo of the world around her seemed so distant in that moment. Her husband's snarls to the Maester, the wail of her newborn babes as they met the day. She was wearing a black and red dress, the last gift her Grandfather ever gave her, and she swore that in that moment, she was dreaming while awake. Looking back, she could see herself, eyes closed and skin white, blood soaking her waist and Pycelle's hands. The raven cawed at her, and numbly, she followed the wandering birds out of the Maidenvault.

They swept through the hallways of the Red Keep, and into the Throne room. Dragon skulls swept each side of the room, the steep descent of the Iron Throne looming before her, illuminated beneath the light of the stained glass depicted the seven pointed star. A man in a black cloak stood before the throne, his eyes far older than Diana expected, and her heart quickened. "Do you know who I am, little one?" His voice asked, and she bristled. She was thirty four, not a child. But this man, with his high cheek bones and washed out lavender eyes, seemed so familiar, yet so ancient.

After a moment, Diana realized she was speaking to the kin of her ancestor, "How many eyes does the Bloodraven have, my lord?" She sang softly, "A thousand eyes and one, my lord, a thousand eyes and one."

Brynden Rivers smiled at her then, "It has been a long time since a true dragon has been born, one with the sight." He walked toward her then, and held out his hand. She took slow, sure steps toward her relative, wary of a ghost long passed. Her fingers barely brushed his palm when the Bloodraven tightened his grip, red eyes boring into her. And suddenly, everything was on fire. Green lit up around them and as Diana blinked the smoke from her eyes, she saw Aerys, his hair and fingers even longer and his eyes more deranged, screaming for more fire. "Fire and blood, sweet sister!" His voice hissed, and she saw a toddler walk into the room, shrieking with horror at the sight of the flames. "A true dragon does not fear flames! Your whore mother bedded that knight, you are no dragon!" The child's screams increased as the king threw the child into the pyre, slamming down by the throat onto a piece of sharp wood, the blood dripping down onto a red dragon egg, which seemed to hiss with every drop that landed on it. In horror, Diana stared at the child with valyrian features, he was no more than three name days. Was this the fate of her child, for her? To be burned alive, to be put into a pyre?

The cold skin of Brynden's fingers left her grasp, and a sob fell out of Diana's mouth before she could stop it. "You have the sight, Diana. There are somethings that must be seen."

"I have to stop it!" She cried, turning to him in desperation, "Why show me things I cannot stop? I saw my grandfather burn!" Her tone was filled with venom, her eyes held tears.

"Summerhall was Aegon's own doing, he chose that path, you merely saw the consequences of it. What I have shown you now can be prevented, but the gods will only exchange a life for a life. There are two lives destined to be lost in the future I have shown you, it is up to you to change who those two are, but I warn you, but trying to change fate, one often causes it." The Bloodraven warned her.

Diana only stared at him for a few beats, "Why are you showing me this?" She asked after an eternity of silence.

"I swore to my brother on his dying breath that I would look after his kin, and now I look after you, your siblings, and your children and nephews." Brynden replied easily, honestly softening his words.

"Will my sister ever forgive me?" Diana asked, her eyes hopeful. She missed Rhaella, though they had not been close in years.

"When she has a daughter of her own, all will be forgiven." The Bloodraven replied, and began to lead her back to the Maidenvault, "Your walk with the Stranger is coming to an end, Princess Diana." No one had called her a princess in years.

A/N:

So this chapter might be a little confusing, basically, Diana just had a near death experience from childbirth, allowing the Bloodraven to tap in for a second. She is not a Warg like Bran, though, she does have "the sight" though, or Dragon Dreams.


	48. Chapter 48

Diana had made a habit of entering the Godswood at least once a week after the small sapling had been planted courtesy of the Starks. She came to water the budding tree, nursemaid and twins in tow. It felt strange, to have two new babes to take care after so many years, she felt so young and so old at the same time. Sitting beneath the weirwood with a freshly carved stern face, she pondered the Bloodraven's words. Two lives lost, in the end it would be her that caused them. When though? Already, the king grew more and more unstable, he refused to leave the Red keep for anyone or anything. Instead he sent Rhaegar, ensuring that his son was left without children of his own, another way to slight her husband.

Aerys had been leering at her more and more often, he was so bold as to enter the room while she nursed her children, stating she would make an excellent royal broodmare. Diana's blood went cold at his words, as well as his lust filled stare. Servants whispered of how Rhaella's screams filled the hallways as the king took his husbandly rights. The queen grew colder towards her, her blank expression always hovering over Diana, never actually looking at her. She wondered how everything went so wrong since they were children, raised in the royal nursery together. Perhaps it was the wood's witch Lady Jenny brought to court, who told the children tales before the entire court, of how they would hatch dragons and bring forth the Prince that was promised, prophecies told in the form of flattering tales.

The red leaves rustled in the wind as Diana sat beneath the trees, enjoying the solce. She closed her eyes, replaying her dreams in her head, trying to make sense of riddles. "My Lady." A simpering voice greeted, and Diana bristled at the intrusion.

"Lord Varys, what a pleasant surprise." Diana replied to the Spider, "I did not imagine you to be a follower of the Old Gods."

The silk garbed man smiled softly, and gestured to the open seat beside her on the small stone bench, and Diana nodded her permission for him to sit next to her. "I serve no gods, only the realm." The Spider replied easily, a practiced smile offered.

"And the realm thanks you for it, I am sure." Diana stated flatly, "What do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He was perfumed, and the strong smell of lavender flooded her nose.

"A warning, Lady Lannister." The Spider implored, and he looked into the face of the heart tree before them. "Prince Rhaegar seeks an heir, born of ice and fire, some say he sees it in his dreams." He glanced at her knowingly, and Diana resisted the urge to stiffen.

"Dragons have dreamed of the song of ice and fire for years, none have made it come true though." Diana replied flippantly, "He shall have his heir when he returns from the Hightower." How it was the Mormonts managed to arrange for a Hightower lady, Diana would never be sure. Some say the Lady Lynesse was no maiden, so she was given to a bear as a last resort. Still, it was a Northern wedding, and the chance for Jaime to be seen publicly with his betrothed. Her heir and spare had spent a moon in Harrenhal and two weeks in Winterfell, before they travelled with the Starks to Old Town to see Ser Jorah wed. In a fortnight, her sons would return, with the prince who travelled as a representative for the royal family.

"The Lady Alysanne is surely as fire-filled as her princely husband, though." Varys simpered, "So how could ice come into play?" His words pulled a memory to the forefront of her mind, of Brandon as a lad of eleven swinging a stick that he had dubbed Ice, after his family's ancestral sword.

"Prince Rhaegar has taken a Northern mistress?" Diana asked softly, as if the words burned her tongue. Her thoughts racing a mile a minute.

"No," He replied simply, "Or at least not yet. That is all I can say, my lady."

Diana was not sure if she should thank the Eunuch or strangle him, so she simply nodded mutely. When Rhaegar returned to King's Landing, he needed to put a child in Alysanne's belly, or a bastard would be born soon enough. And no prophecy was worth the end of the Targaryen dynasty, or the birth of a Blackfyre.

A/N:

So, I'm not sure if I want Rhaegar to kidnap Lyanna, or have them run away together and it is assumed she is kidnapped. Thoughts?


	49. Chapter 49

When Jaime met his betrothed for the first time, he was awestruck. A wild mane of chocolate colored hair fell down her back, barely tamed by a simple northern style, with a long face and steel grey eyes, Lyanna was a beauty indeed. Yet she had taken one look at him and his cocky smile, and glared at her eldest brother with disdain. "My lady, you are truly a beauty." He greeted, and she scoffed at him.

"I have no wish to marry a southerner, my lord." Lyanna spat at him, and he frowned for a moment at her.

"I am more a Westerner than a Southerner, my lady." Jaime quipped, "A northern girl was not who I expected for a bride, but my father was happy with the alliance, and my mother does love playing her games."

"What game is that?" Lyanna asked him, still cold but by the way Brandon was smiling encouragingly next to him, he knew he had broke the ice.

"The game of thrones, as well as match making." He replied, "She insisted that the next Lady Lannister not be a simpering southern maiden." Her eyebrow arched, and he grinned at her. His mother was right, she was a lady of steel, more Warrior than Maiden.

"And you, my lord? What are your expectations for your bride?" Lyanna interrogated, stepping closer to him, as if she were to poke his chest before she thought better of it.

"A lady wife should be willing to fulfill her duties." Jaime said bluntly, and when she did not seem to like the answer, he elaborated, "I must continue my line, of course. But when my Father meets the Seven, I shall need someone to help me run the West. My Mother makes matches for bickering bannerman, visits the poor in the city, runs the household, and serves as my father's chief councilor. I would ask the same of my wife."

She seemed pleased with his answer, "And if I were to keep the Old Gods?" The use of personal pronouns had him grinning at her, she was agreeing.

"The godswood in Casterly Rock is quite beautiful, Lady Lyanna." Jaime replied easily, enjoying the slight blush that crossed her cheeks at the use of her name.

"Jaime and his family have visited the godswood with me many times, even in King's Landing." Brandon piped up then, "Except Lord Tywin, of course. Lady Diana has to drag him to the Sept as it is."

They all laughed at the jape, imagining his slim mother dragging a powerful man by the ear to the Sept of Baelor. "May I escort you to the ceremony, my lady?" Jaime requested, they were to head to the Sept soon, a smaller ceremony for the Old gods later that evening since Ser Jorah was a Mormont, and they kept the Old gods while Lady Lynesse and the Hightowers worshipped the seven.

Lady Lyanna nodded to her betrothed, and they walked outside the tent. Brandon and Jaime's horses were tied nearby, and Lyanna looked at them with envy. His friend had told Jaime of how his father insisted his sister ride in a carriage, and not a top a horse to meet her betrothed. The twin black steeds were large, powerful beasts that any rider would be proud of, the descendants of the breeding pair Rickard Stark had sent for Diana and Tywin's wedding present.

"Would you like to meet Brightfyre, my lady?" Jaime asked, the name being a nod to both his paternal and maternal house swords. Lyanna nodded, and stroked the nose of the horse. Brightfyre snickered at the lady, and allowed her to feel his mane.

"He is beautiful." She whispered in awe, "A fine mount for any man, my lord."

A thought struck him then, and before he could think it through, he simply exclaimed, "A fine mount for any lady as well, he is yours." Her grey eyes widened and she attempted to refuse, but Jaime shook his head. "Your father gave his parents to mine own, and now I return the favor as a gift to my betrothed. I broke him myself, I would see you on no other horse as we travel to Harrenhal for my brother's wedding."

In the distance, Rhaegar watched them, a frown marring his features. The two looked sort of alike, but Jaime had a hint of gold in his silver hair, and was a head taller than his cousin. Lyanna beamed at him, and Jaime failed to notice the jealous look cast at him when she did, too distracted by the beautiful northern girl before him. Tomorrow, once the wedding was complete, they would head to Harrenhal to see Daemon wed, before traveling to Casterly Rock for their own wedding.

They continued walking out of the tents set up outside of the tourney yard that had been set up for the wedding, and headed into the castle, towards the sept. As Jaime witnessed the wedding of Jorah and Lynesse, he imagined his own wedding, and the lion cape that would drape Lyanna's shoulders in a few short moons.

A/N:

Just wanted to drop in on the kiddos, and give a little Jaime/Lyanna action. Random thought, Sandor/Brienne. I was thinking, if Diana was known as a matchmaker, Lord Selwyn could write to her and be like, "Brienne needs a husband, like bad." and at the end of the war, Sandor is awarded a larger chunk of lands outside of Clegane lands and marries Brienne.


	50. Chapter 50

Tywin felt ten pounds lighter as he rode to the Riverlands, his lady wife beside him. The twins were six moons old, barely old enough to travel, which left them running a fast past to get to Riverrun in time for Brandon Stark's nuptials. Though the boy was like a son to his wife, his time in King's Landing during his fostering in Casterly Rock left him with less of a bond between them. Still, the loyalty of the Starks had been assured, the fostering opening a segway into a betrothal. The North was wont to stay in the North, but Lord Rickard was ambitious, something he was sure Diana only fed into. The Lord of the North and the Lady of the West exchanged letters every moon for years, though this was the first time they would meet face to face. Diana had forgone the elaborate carriage he had commissioned for her after their wedding, choosing to ride Dark sister as a means of keeping a tight pace. The normal journey to the Riverlands, carriage and all, would take a fortnight, but with the minimal retinue and only horses, they would be there in a day or so, having been already riding for a week.

He was not surprised to see banners of a snarling direwolf and a leaping trout ride out to greet them, a small escort for important guests was custom. However, the grim faces of Rickard and Brandon Stark leading the men were not who he expected to see. A moment later, a shock of red hair rode beside them, wearing scaled armor as dark as pitch, the Blackfish rode with them.

Diana seemed pale beside him, a feat considering her ivory skin. "Something is wrong." She murmured, and her eyes cast towards the small retinue of guards, Tywin Surefoot moving closer to the servants who carried the twins towards the back of the small group. The Lannister lord could only nod, waiting for the riders to approach.

"Lord and Lady Lannister." Lord Rickard greeted, and a large black horse with a rider in full golden armor broke through the formation. Jaime was a decent rider, his large horse breaking through the men easily, his green eyes glinting with rage.

"He is as mad as his father!" Jaime spat, and nods from the Northern Men abound. Tywin was unsure of who he meant for a moment, but his wife looked at her son with cold understanding.

"Rhaegar." Diana said simply, and Tywin held back a snarl. His wife had warned him of the Spider's words, of how Rhaegar wished for a mistress of ice to accompany his wife of fire, Diana had seemed eager to speak with her nephew, perhaps talk some sense into him, but they had arrived too late. Why couldn't he had taken an Umber, or a Mormont? The wrath of the Starks and the Tullys would rain down upon the royals now, and Tywin was eager to throw his own men into the fight, had it not been his daughter who was lined up to be Queen.

"My sister has been taken against her will!" Brandon snarled, "Her tent was ransacked, and Arthur Dayne and Rhaegar Targaryen are nowhere to be found!"

Was he that much of a fool? To risk everything Tywin had plotted, for a prophesy? He wanted to rage, to leave a path of destruction, but his wife's hand reached out, her doe skin gloves covering the hand that he held the reigns of his horse in, her deep purple eyes looking at him intently. "My nephew has been accused of heinous crimes, and like all crimes, he shall be tried in the light of the Seven."

"Fuck your Seven!" A voice called out, a large lord with a sprawling beard. Northerners were full of cheek it seemed.

"Old or New, the gods preside over a trial." Tywin commanded, "It was your sister that was taken, but my future good daughter and son's betrothed." When Diana pushed her mount forward, he followed. Slowly, Brandon, Rickard, Jaime and Brynden rode to meet the lord and lady lion.

"Start from the beginning." Diana told her son, before flicking her gaze to those around them. It took a moment for Tywin to realize she was looking for Daemon. Tywin wondered if perhaps he had dragon dreams as well, for his second son was the child his wife was closest to.

"Lady Lyanna and I had our evening meal together, the two of us as well as Daemon and Lady Rhynda Poole." Jaime told his mother. Tywin thought for a moment on the names, remembering that the Stewards of house Stark had long been a Poole, and while handmaidens were uncommon the further North one went, so ladies often kept companions instead. Since his son was not yet wed, it was only proper for other's to eat with him and his betrothed. "I bid her goodnight, as she said she wished to bathe before bed. But this morning, her tent was empty. Lady Rhynda went to fetch servants for the water, but someone knocked her unconscious and hid her in her own tent for the evening!"

Someone had been watching, waiting for the moment she would be expected to be alone for the evening, undisturbed. Perhaps the prince was no fool, simply mad as the other's claimed. "So where do you ride now, my lords?" Tywin asked Rickard and Brynden. He was surprised to see the Tully men among them, since Brandon did not seem to have wed his bride before riding for his sister.

"To King's Landing, to demand my sister's return and the bastard's head!" Brandon snarled in reply, hearing shouts of here heres from the hundred men following him.

"And how do you think the king will reply when his heir's head is demanded?" Tywin asked flatly. "That he shall present his eldest son to be slaughtered?"

"For the sake of my sister's honor." Brandon replied, and Tywin resisted rolling his eyes. What care did Aerys have for the honor of a Northern girl? His son was either plotting to overthrow him, or the heir of his dreams, depending on the day.

"Have you learned nothing?" Diana's voice surprised them all, the fury in her words. "Honor means nothing to a dragon, only fire and blood. If you tell my brother you wish to end his son's life, he will have your head atop a spike for treason. Your justifications are only threats and whimpers to him."

The Northern men did not seem pleased to hear a Lady speak, especially on the matters of war or politics. "Then what would you have us do, Lady Diana?" Lord Rickard was staring strangely at his wife, as if she were not what he expected. Her riding pants were black, but her shirt was golden, emblazoned with a golden lion and a three headed dragon facing each other. Tywin was used to seeing his wife in her riding clothes, she chose to personally exercise Dark Sister, the old mare was fearsome in her youth, and would only be saddled by himself or his wife, similar to Bright Roar.

"I would have Brandon return to Riverrun and marry his Tully bride, while my Lord husband ride for Harrenhal to ensure that Daemon is wed to Lynda Whent, using the cover of the weddings to call the banners." Diana replied, "I shall ride back to King's Landing and attempt to stop the war that is brewing, but if it cannot be stopped, we shall be ready."

They were silent for a moment, before Tywin spoke. "Absolutely not, I shall not have you riding right into what could be trap. You are a valuable hostage, Diana."

"Meaning that I will not be killed." She fired back, "Lord Stark may ride with me, if it appeases you, Lord husband. For it was his daughter and my son who have been slighted. If we do not return within a moon, lay siege to King's Landing."

"Brandon shall wed Catelyn, and bring the Riverlands into the fold, and I shall write to Lord Baratheon, and with his permission, shall wed Lysa to his heir a year early and secure the Stormlands." Brynden spoke then, his calculating eyes casting over them. "If there is to be war, we must strike fast to secure our allies."

Tywin nodded to the man, "I shall send Lord Stark and my wife with the fifty Lannister men I have brought with me, and shall instruct my brother to send the might of the Westerlands down the Gold road, should King Aerys refuse to see sense, he shall see the might of the great houses at his doorstep."

' _That leaves the Reach, the Vale and Dorne'_ He thought to himself, the Crownlands would choose the King simply because the lands surrounded his seat. Dorne would likely stay neutral, with the heir of Dorne married to a foreign woman, and the other prince and princess unwed as of yet. Rumour had it that the Princess Elia would marry her cousin, the heir to Firefield, which may work to his advantage, given the Lady of Firefield was his cousin, Johanna.

The Reach were staunch Targaryen supporters, since their claim to Highgarden came from the establishment of the Targaryen Dynasty. Lord Mace had three sons, Willas, Garlan and Loras, with another child on the way. Visenya was but a babe, leaving only a third son in close age with her, and Diana would throw a fit if he were to barter their daughter to the Reach.

The Vale had Lord Arryn at it's head, who had fostered both Robert Baratheon and Neddard Stark, so perhaps a little bit of gold would cement the loyalty of the Eyrie. The old falcon loved those boys as his own, or so he had heard.

"We leave at dawn, Lord Stark." Diana told the grim lord of Winterfell, receiving a nod in response. "Aye, I shall take my second son and a host of fifty men as well."

A/N:

Sorry guys! It's Spring break, so I went to Lake Havasu City for a few days to see my parents and did not have access to a laptop. So I thought I would reward y'all's patience with the start of the war!


	51. Chapter 51

A/N:

This first part is for you guys, cause I realized I messed up and did not include a scene introducing the twins.

Aemon and Visenya were as the sun and stars to Diana, her third born son inherited her coloring, down to the shade of deep purple in his eyes, while her second daughter was a Lannister through and through, glass bottle green eyes and golden fuzz atop her head. The children did not appreciate being strapped against a servant's chest for the week long ride into the Riverlands, and were fussy due to it. At six moons, they lay on the furs before the fire and kick their little limbs into the air. Tywin did not like how close Diana had grown to the dragon egg before her, placed securely in the flames as soon as her tent was prepared. She carried it with her, in her saddle bag as she rode, a hint of paranoia that a servant would find it and cause rumors of magic, madness or treason. A deep fear had grown in Diana, as she looked to her son and daughter. Aerys had burned a Page from a minor crownlands house, simply for mentioning the crown prince's absence at court as of late. He called it treason to speak ill of the royal family, and here they were to ride to the King and demand a trial for his son?

That was why Diana had refused to allow Brandon to join them, using the guise of securing the Riverlands. Robert Baratheon was in Riverrun with his father, her cousin and a dear friend, Steffon could have pushed the wedding of Lysa and Robert up six moons, and secure the Tullys for them. But Brandon was hot headed, wolf's blood they called it, and she knew he would not be able to hold his tongue in his sister's defense. From the whispers gleaned in court, Eddard Stark was who kept Robert Baratheon in line, and a voice of reason was who she needed when facing her brother.

She would keep the twins in Riverrun, the Tully words were "Family, Duty, Honor" after all, and they would not condone the killing of babes, they would protect her children. The vision of the little boy dying in flames would not be her son, she vowed. Diana's thoughts spun around her family these days, especially since Daemon was nowhere to be seen when they rode into the Stark and Tully camp. As if her thoughts summoned him, her tent flap flew open, and both her elder sons walked in.

"Tell her! Tell her what you have done!" Daemon demanded, glaring at Jaime with venom. He was the calmer of her children, his rage surprising her. Visenya began to cry at her brother's shouts, and Diana held her daughter to her chest to soothe her.

"Tell me what?" Diana asked, and Daemon seemed to just then realize that she was not alone in her tent. He knelt onto the fur next to them, and picked up Aemon, who stared at his brother with wide, royal purple eyes.

"Lady Rhynda was not knocked unconscious. She was drunk on the cask of Arbor Gold Aunt Genna sent Lyanna and I as a betrothal gift." Jaime said after a beat of silence. The shame on his face had soured the bravado he had when announcing his betrothed's kidnapping.

"And why was she drunk Jaime?" Diana stared at her eldest, a fire of fury blooming in her eyes. "If you took advantage of a drunken maiden, Jaime, I swear I will geld you myself!"

"No! No!" Jaime quickly replied, waving his arms for extra emphasis. "Lyanna poured Daemon and Lady Rhynda's glasses, and she watered down our own portions so it seemed as though we were drinking the same amount. A jest, she had said, to allow us to spend time together without others listening and watching."

"I took Lady Rhynda to her chambers, and Jaime told me he was going to check the horses before going to bed." Daemon butted in, the softness he had at looking at his new younger siblings gone as he stared at his elder one.

"I did not leave Lady Lyanna's chambers for a few more hours." Jaime confessed, and the way he would not look his mother in the eyes made her know that was not all.

"Jaime…" Diana started, "What did you two do that evening?" He only blushed in response, and her hands shook. "You deflowered Lyanna Stark?" Her voice was a snarl, her mind reeling.

"We are to be wed!" Jaime quickly defended, "Lyanna is wild, and beautiful, and smart! She wanted to have me for me, not for my title, and…" Diana suddenly feels sixteen again, betrothed to a stranger for his title, yet by Jaime's age, she was in love with Tywin, the man, and not the Lord of Lannister.

Diana was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts was like grasping at smoke. What her son did was wrong, she knew, and the lack of maidenhead would need to be explained as a rape on her nephew's part, to save both families face. Yet to save her son from dishonor, she would need to paint more in her nephew. Rhaegar took her future good daughter, and the more time passed, the more she was convinced the Stark girl did not go willingly. "When did you leave her rooms?" She finally said, her neutral tone shocking her children.

"Just after midnight." Jaime replied, "The guards switch shifts then, it's easier to slip in and out." The Lannister cunning was not lost on her eldest, it seemed.

"How often do they change shifts?" She asked, rocking her daughter in her arms, the babe was quickly falling asleep. Daemon placed his little brother down, and gestured for his sister.

"Every four hours." Jaime stated, "What are their names?"

Diana smiled at her son, "Visenya was born first, and then Aemon." She thought over Jaime's words, that meant the men switched just before dawn, allowing the Prince to spirit Lyanna away before the sun rose.

"They are beautiful." Daemon spoke, "After the Queen and the Dragonknight?"

Diana shook her head, "The Queen and the Maester. My uncle Aemon joined the Citadel in his youth, and joined the Night's Watch, keeping his vows even when a throne was dangled before him. Your great grandfather rose to the throne because Maester Aemon kept his vows." In such tumultuous times, Diana wanted a reminder of honor, of keeping promises.

"Honor is needed now more than ever." Daemon spat at his brother, and Diana understood his anger then.

"Daemon, what is it?" She stared at her son, and his green-purple eyes alight with fury.

"It's all your fault!" Daemon snarled at his brother, "Rhaegar has had his eyes on Lyanna, he watched you two flirting and whispering, he was green with envy, and you pushed him over the edge!"

"He married our sister!" Jaime growled back, "He took a vow, and you speak of my honor when he slights our family two fold?" Her eldest had the temper of a Targaryen, that was to be sure. Jaime was a dragon with a lion's mane.

"If she were your wife, he would have no claim!" Daemon argued, and Diana stepped in then.

"What claim?" Diana asked, staring down her middle son. Varys's words rushed through her head, _ice and fire._

"Rhaegar visited the library in Bear Island, his Kingsguard following in his shadow." Daemon replied, his eyes burning, "He was looking into the legends of the First Men, and asked after legends pertaining to ice, but the Maester only knew of the Song of Ice and Fire."

Daemon always was a lover of reading, and enjoyed travelling with his brother simply because every Keep had final copies of old histories, usually pertaining to their own houses.

"Why was he looking into prophesies?" Jaime asked, "Lyanna is a Stark, not a grumpkin."

"Because the Song of Ice and Fire tells of the Prince that was promised, forged in Fire and Ice." Diana said with a hint of fear in her voice, her eyes staring into the fire and her egg within. "A bride of Fire and a bride of Ice."

"He can't think to marry my betrothed!" Jaime snarled, "And Alysanne will not accept being a sister-wife!" Her daughter had dreamed of being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not a consort to a man with a queen from each kingdom.

"Jaime, you are staying in Riverrun." Diana said suddenly, "Daemon, you shall ride to Harrenhal tomorrow and marry Lynda Whent, Lannister gold rebuilt that keep, and Lannister soldiers will flock there disguised as wedding goers."

"Mother!" Both boys shouted at once in protest.

"Jaime, I need you to watch after your siblings, I will not give my heir as a hostage." Diana replied sourly.

"So you would give yourself instead? And what of Alysanne?" Daemon questioned, ever the clever one.

"Alysanne is princess of Dragonstone, it is time she travelled there, the island serves as a fortress, but has few men. I shall send her with enough men to overwhelm loyalists to my brother." Diana stated, "Aerys knows to kill me is to bring death to his house, I am simply giving him a way out, a valuable hostage to exchange for his own life should things turn for the worst. Besides, Lord Stark shall be with me, and he is not enough of a fool to openly disrespect a Warden before the court."

A/N:

So, Diana has mixed feelings about her brother. In her mind, her vision shall come true no matter what, so she is attempting to forge it in the image she wishes. Diana knows her brother likes to express power and has burned men alive, but does not think he is crazy enough to turn the North against him (he totes is though).


	52. Chapter 52

Diana dreamed every night as they rode towards her ancestral home. One night, she saw a dragon with a mane of fire striking down another dragon with it's claws. The next she saw a great storm throwing itself against Dragonstone, and men whispering of the gods' wrath upon them. Then there was the direwolf, howling in pain as it whelped in the sand, a spark of magic in the air, as the gods themselves seemed to whisper, ' _King's blood'_. Every night it was something different, something even more cryptic than the last.

Oh, how she wished to just go home to Casterly Rock, to have her husband and children safe and secure. The Maester had warned her when the twins were born, with her age and the stress of Visenya and Aemon's entrance, they would be the last children she would have. With five children of her own, Diana knew that information should not have stung as much as it did. She was due for grandchildren within the next few years, she knew, but the thought of her children having children made her feel so old. Oh gods, and what would she tell Alysanne? Her husband had run off with her brother's betrothed, and she may be a widow soon, if not a sister wife?

"Stag for your thoughts?" Rickard offered, breaking her out of her thoughts as they rode out that morning, they were due to reach the Red Keep today.

"What am I going to tell my daughter?" Diana flatly asked him. "She has dreamed of being a Silver Queen since she was a little girl, she thinks Rhaegar hung the moon!"

"That he is a kidnapping bastard who took my daughter!" Rickard snarled, and Diana realized that despite the alliance kindled over the years of letters, fostering and betrothal, the Northern man would still looked at her as a Targaryen, family to the enemy.

"Of course, my lord." She replied stiffly, and kicked her mount forward. Diana wished to lead the group as the entered the Keep, and she watched from the corner of her eye as Tywin Surefoot glared down any Northern men who attempted to pass them. She slipped her nondominant hand into her saddlebag, the rough scales of her egg giving her a boost of confidence. With her strange dreams, it had become a habit for her to keep it on her person.

When the gates opened, Diana found her brother and sister awaiting her, dressed in full regality and standing above them on a balcony. As she rode closer, she was surprised to see her protectively holding Viserys's hand with one of her own, the other clutching the slight swell of her pregnant belly. Alysanne stood as far from the king as she could, but Ser Oswell Whent stared her down. It seemed he was spiteful of the Lannisters, for taking his family's seat as he would have been heir had it not been for the vows he took when he was far down the line of succession.

"Brother." Diana greeted with forced warmness, "I have brought Lord Stark to discuss an urgent matter."

Aerys only spat at them, "I am your king before I am your brother, and there is no matter so important that a servant would enter under such heavy guard."

Rickard bristled at the insult, "My king, your son has taken my daughter against her will, as Protector of the realm, it is your duty to order my daughter's safe return."

"You dare command a king?" Aerys yelled, and the Kingsguard around the royal family seemed to close ranks. "My son is the crown prince, how dare you seek to belittle him with an order!"

"Your grace." Diana said between gritted teeth, "Lord Stark is worried for his daughter, as I am worried for my nephew. I beg of you, send a raven asking Prince Rhaegar to return to King's Landing so he may defend himself in person."

"He has no need to defend himself, for he has done the Starks an honor!" Aerys grinned maliciously then, "A Stark and a Lannister shall serve as Queen Consorts one day."

The color drained from her face, he knew. Aerys knew of Rhaegar's foolish plan, and he supported it. "My daughter is no Dragon's whore!" Rickard snapped, and Diana cursed her foolishness. She knew that Brandon had a temper, that was why she left him behind, but she never thought as to where he got it from. "I demand that my daughter be returned to me unharmed, or I shall give justice to the Prince myself!"

Diana had not seen her brother so angry since she told him of her dream of sitting on the Iron Throne as a child, he was as purple in the face as his eyes. "Treason!" The word slapped through the air, and suddenly no one moved. "Seize them!"

Everything happened in a breath, Lannister soldiers surrounding her as the Stark soldiers moved to protect their liege lord, all while the golden cloaks of the city watch and the personal shields of Targaryen descended upon them. They had rode into a trap, Aerys had been warned of the ire of the lions and the wolves from his son.

They were surrounded, and the loss of life would haunt her. "Yield!" She shouted, but no one seemed to hear her. "We shall surrender peacefully, under the premise that we receive guest rights and rooms befitting our rank."

Aerys stared down at his sister, before lifting his hand in the air. "Take my sister to the maidenvault." A chill went down her spine as the swords of Lannister and Stark fell to the ground. "And take the wolf to the Black Cells." His fist fell down, before the Starks had a chance to redraw their weapons, Lord Rickard was held with a blade to his throat to ensure cooperation.

A King's guard broke through the crowd to take Diana to her chambers, and she noted it was Ser Lewyn Martell. His copper skin made the milky white armour sheen as he walked to her, his hands gripping her waist as he helped her dismount. It was a show of power, anyone with half a brain knew how Diana loved horseback riding, and could dismount just fine on her own. Diana grabbed her saddlebag before she was escorted off, and knight eyed it warily. "Do you wish to go through my small clothes and silks, Ser Martell?" She asked snidely, and he looked away.

The heat emitting from her dragon egg surprised her, she could feel the warmth though the cloth. Tywin attempted to follow her, but was kept back by gold cloaks. "I am the personal sworn shield to Lady Lannister, I demand to accompany her!"

"Has no one figured out that demanding something does not work?" A guard japed, his sword handle crashing down on Tywin's head, causing him to crumple into the ground. Diana winced, and stifled a cry at the sight of her closest companion harmed.

"Come, Princess." Ser Lewyn commanded, and the use of her maiden title made her frown.

"I am Lady Lannister, as I have been for many years." Diana bit back. In her youth, she liked to think she was still a princess, despite her marriage, but quickly found how much more apt it was to be the Lady of the West, and not a princess set to inherit nothing.

The Dornishman only gave her a look that said, ' _we will see.'_ He led her to a set of chambers in the center of the Maidenvault, and her eyes widened when she saw her sister being escorted to the chambers next to her's. Rhaella looked as though she had not slept in days, her pale throat had fingerprint shaped bruises and her skin was pale. "You've dreamed of this for years, haven't you sister?" The Queen asked softly, "The fall of the Dragon, all thanks to a prophecy the world is so desperate to fulfill."

"I've dreamed of many things, but nothing this horrible." Diana replied darkly, "I suppose the gods are much crueler in real life." When she entered the rooms she was assigned, the black and red overwhelmed her. Every wall had a Targaryen banner, the pitch curtains snarled at her with the crimson beasts, and she felt so small. ' _You have lived as a lion too long.'_ The gods were cruel indeed.

A/N:

In case you can't tell, I suck at writing battle scenes. Next chapter is Tywin's reaction to all this!


	53. Chapter 53

Tywin stared down at the Targaryen seal in red wax, he had broken it, yet paused when he saw his wife's feminine, loopy scrawl. She took her personal seal with her everywhere she went, fashioned in the form of a lion ring she wore on her thumb. It was a sign they had agreed to before she left, her writing, but not her words.

Lord Lannister,

On behalf of my brother the King, I am recalling your heir to my side, to answer to the crimes of insult against the crown. You too, shall arrive, to swear fealty to the true King.

Diana La- Targaryen

There was no sweep of signature at the bottom, no proclamation of titles, it was unnerving. Diana loved to include long proclamations at the end of her letters, naming herself Lady of the Westerlands and of Casterly Rock, yet here she used her maiden name as if she were forbidden to call herself anything other than a dragon.

Brandon Stark lunged into Tywin's tent, weeks ride from Harrenhal, still in his riding clothes. Riverrun was a three days ride from here, and it seemed he wasted no time in gathering the host of the Riverlands and marching them here after his wedding. "What is this?" The Stark heir spat, holding a letter with a Direwolf seal. Tywin took the parchment and read it, revealing the same words Tywin was given, only Lord Rickard, it seemed, was demanding Brandon come to swear fealty to the Iron throne, and bring Robert Baratheon to answer for crimes of insult to the crown.

"The King has overstepped," Tywin said flippantly, silently watching Brandon steam as Sandor entered the tent with the Lord's dinner. The entire camp was on edge it seemed, and Tywin had already ordered a thousand Lannister soldiers to march up the gold road, they would intersect them with the forces of the Riverlands and answer the King's request of fealty with a force of their own, and demand the return of Lady Lannister and Lord Stark. "We make demands through his captives, the guard has been sent to the Black Cells, as well as your father." Tywin had spent a good sum of gold for that information, but it was worth every stag. His wife was in the Maidenvault with her sister and daughter, and the information chilled him to the core. Aerys did not think of her as a Lannister, despite the years of their marriage, he saw her as a Valyrian woman.

"I want his head!" Brandon raged, and Sandor snorted at him. "Have something to say, Hound?" The Clegane heir curled his lip at the Stark heir but said nothing else.

"You cannot just decapitate the King of Westeros." Tywin replied, "Not before a trial, that is."

"Like the one Rhaegar was supposed to have?" Brandon bit back, irritating Tywin to no end.

"We ride into the Red Keep tomorrow, Brandon. We must keep an even head." The Lord of Lannister reminded the brute. He poured a glass of Arbour red for each of them. Inside the cask of wine they received was the answer Tywin had been waiting for, the Redwyne fleet had set sail to Stormbreaker Bay, to reinforce the Stormlands while also leaving the Reach vulnerable should they need to attack. Already, Highgarden was pulling their grain stores, preparing supply wagons for battles to come. There was no cry for war, but whispers had caused frantic actions for it.

A/N:

So next chapter jumps back to Diana writing the letter and will lead up to when Tywin reaches the city.


	54. Chapter 54

A/N:

Shit gets real in this chapter, trigger warning: sexual assault and full blown murder

Diana did not leave the room she was placed in for four days. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with the lack of fresh surroundings, she was caged and she loathed it. She paced back and forth in front of the hearth, her dragon egg causing leaping shadows around her. Lately her dreams had been of a red dragon, she blamed her room. It was covered with the Targaryen symbol everywhere she looked, red dragons on the curtains, the bed spread, the walls, even her dresses. The face that none of her old dresses made it to her room irked her, the black and crimson gowns she was left with were low cut and ostentatious, the unfamiliar guards' gazes had wandered down her chest too many times in these silks.

On her fifth day of captivity, it was the Spider who appeared to her. His simpering face hid a sly smile that made her skin itch. "Princess Diana." Varys greeted, "The wishes you to write to Lord Lannister."

"And tell him of how I am locked in the Maidenvault as if I were a princess of old?" Diana bit back, her temper rising.

"To tell him that he must swear fealty to the king, and present his son for the crime of insulting the crown." The Spider replied flippantly.

"And if I refuse?" She tested.

"Then the Princess Alysanne is to be gelded." The words slid from him like silk, and her blood went cold.

"She is the next Queen of Westeros." Diana replied tartly, "Aerys would not dare."

"The King has formed quite a distaste for the Princess, something about having dirty Andal blood." He shrugged, "He seems to think quite highly of you though. No, you aren't to be harmed, if you misbehave, your daughter shall bear the beating."

Her hands trembled as she scrawled the message on the scrap of paper the Master of Whispers provided her, and she reluctantly began to sign her name, "You are a Targaryen, Princess. The King would not be pleased to see you label yourself otherwise."

Not once had her marraige been recognised, and it sent a jolt of fear through her. She married into the West for protection, and it was being denied to her. They left her alone in her chamber for another week, until the King himself appeared.

"Sweet Sister." His voice crooned, it was barely past dawn, she had not even risen for the day when he barged into her room. "How lovely you look." His eyes raked over her thin nightgown, and she shivered.

"Your grace, allow me to dress and we may speak." She tried to keep her voice even, but a week of isolation had rattled her. Diana missed her home, her husband and her babes.

"No need to dress, it is not as if you were a maiden." He laughed at his own bluntness, and Diana knew something horrible was about to happen. "No matter, you are a bride fit to bear heirs nonetheless."

"What?" The word fell from her mouth, and the hungry gaze he pinned her with made her cold. "I am already married, Aerys. And you have been wed to Rhaella for longer than I have been Lady Lannister."

His palm struck her cheek the moment the name was spoken. "Do not speak that traitor's name! He stole you from me, all those years ago, but not again." Aerys stared at her with a rage that only seemed to grow. Madness danced in him as he grabbed her by the scalp, tears stinging her eyes. "Your marriage has been dissolved by the crown. And you shall be a widow soon."

Diana could not breathe, she could not even think. Her brother pinned her to the bed, enjoying the feeling of her shaking body. ' _Tywin, I want Tywin.'_ She thought to herself, closing her eyes as to not see the horror in front of her. Her brother grabbed at her body through her nightgown, taking liberties only her husband had. Her mind shut down, reminding herself that if she did not comply, her daughter would suffer for it.

The King left Diana's chambers a few hours later, and the silent handmaidens only directed the woman to her bath, leaving her in the water to clean herself. She was sobbing as she cleaned her dirtied skin, scrubbing every inch of herself that she could reach. Bruises bloomed on her hips and wrists, her hair a tangled mess. ' _I will burn him to the ground'_ She vowed to herself.

/*/*/*/*/*

She counted the days by marking the wall with a dot of hot candle wax, a moon had passed. A week after the first unholy visit from her brother, Diana had been dragged to the sept, and forced to don a maiden cloak and vow to be her brother's bride. Alysanne looked pale, Ser Whent holding a dragonbone dagger to her slender throat to ensure Diana complied.

Diana was a prisoner, despite the halfhearted Queenship, her only visitor her sister. She begged her every day to leave, to run to Dragonstone and hide from her husband. Rhaella always refused, her hand placed over the swell of her belly. With the true Queen with child, Aerys had focused his sexual and physical pursuits on Diana. The acts while horrid in nature, led to Rhaella visiting her sister, allowing them to rekindle their bond. Rhaella did not fully forgive Diana for the past, but they were working on it.

Then, one day the horrid routine was broken. She saw the lion banners in the distance when she broke her fast, and almost wept.

A moon's turn had passed, but Tywin had come for her. The troops gathered at the entrance of the gold road and the king's road, a flurry of roaring lions, leaping trouts, snarling direwolves, prancing stags and even a few soaring falcons.

A soldier escorted Diana to the throne room after she broke her fast, a servant serving as her handmaiden following and she was surprised to see Aerys atop the Iron throne, looking quite pleased with himself as a pyre was being built in front of him. "Fire and blood." He said easily, gesturing to the wooden contraption before him. "Today, I shall roast the wolves and lions."

"I want my dragon egg." She murmured, and the servant seemed happy to have an excuse to leave the throne room. Diana stared at her brother, the hatred she felt consuming her. "If you kill them, their men shall only kill you."

"They cannot kill a dragon!" Aerys snarled, "I shall only rise from the ashes, a beast reborn!" The doors to the hall opened, and members of court entered, what few loyalists remained. Rickard Stark was brought in once the usual faces had appeared, and Diana paled. Rickard had lost at least a third of his weight, his gaunt face revealing the horrors of the Black Cells. His son followed behind him, chained and weak, with Tywin Surefoot following him. Diana wanted to weep, seeing her Sworn shield starved and beaten, yet he only looked at her with such relief, as if he assumed the worst of her own fate. Soldiers strapped the Lord of the North to the pyre, and Aerys stood from his throne. "Allow the traitors in." He commanded, and footsteps sounded in the distance. The servant girl slipped to Diana's side, and the heat of her egg in her hands calmed her. There was a fog in her mind, the sense of deja vu that burned her soul. Two people would die today, she knew.

Tywin walked into the throne room, his eyes searching until they landed on her. He had Brandon Stark, Brynden Tully and Jon Arryn with him, but only stared at her, and the egg in her hands. She wanted to run into his arms, but the guard at her side would never allow it. "Tywin Lannister." Aerys spat, "Have you come to swear fealty?"

"I have come for my wife, and for the release of Lord Stark and his son." Tywin replied with a slight snarl.

Aerys laughed, "Did you not receive the raven? You have no wife. As my ancestors, I have taken my own Rhaenys and Visenya, my sisters and wives, Rhaella and Diana." Rhaella paled at his words and Diana stared at her sister. The room was silent for a beat, until the sound of a sword being drawn was heard.

"How dare you!" Brandon Stark raged, his eyes never leaving his father, who was half dead, tied to a log atop kindling.

"Kill them both!" Aerys snarled to his men, one who went to light the fire while the other raised a sword to Ned's throat.

"Please, your grace." Diana spoke before she could think, her mind racing as she held up her dragon egg, the only thing she could think to offer him. "The life of a dragon is worth more than two servants." She was reluctant to label them so, but the wording would appease her brother.

Aerys grinned at her, "Cut him loose." A moment of relief filled her as Rickard was cut free from the binds and led down to where his son and the other prisoners watched on. Diana looked at her sister, "Please, go to Dragonstone, take your son and run." Rhaella only nodded, and when Aerys motioned Diana forward, Rhaella and her kingsguard Ser Jonothor fled. Diana walked towards him, holding out her egg. Her fingers burned at the thought of giving away her prized possession, but moved nonetheless. When she was right in front of him, Aerys grabbed her arms, his long fingernails cutting her flesh. A nod to Rossart, and the pyre was lit before them. Brandon and Tywin leaped forward, but gold cloaks blocked their way. "Fire and blood." Aerys cackled, and pushed Diana into the flame.

She screamed as she fell backwards, the wooden kindling piercing her back and catching her clothes aflame. The heat burned around her, and her ears rang with the roar of the flames. The smell of her own hair burning filled her lungs, and Diana swore she heard the gods' voices, ' _Fire and blood...two lives….fire and blood…"_ Everywhere she looked, patches of green and red surrounded her, she could not see out. Wildfire was used, it was the only way she could not see the hand in front of her face.

A scream filled the room, a grief stricken sound as Tywin slashed his blade through the air, killing man after man as he worked his way to the king. "No! I want Father!" A small voice rang through the noise, and a silver head zoomed past the fighting men and a body curled into the king's side. Lost in the flames, Diana realized with horror that it was Prince Viserys, running from his mother who was attempting to take him with her to Dragonstone.

Aerys revealed no sense of kindness to the child, "Bastard!" He snarled at the crying child, "You are no dragon! You have no seed of mine!" Diana's hands reached out in the flames, but it was too late. Viserys crumbled in the fire, his little body burning as the sharp kindling pierced his skull and came out through his eye. Diana stumbled forward, falling on her knees as she watched her nephew's corpse feed the fire that burned around her. Her hands, stained with her own blood, reached to cradle him, and landed on the dragon egg instead. It made an unholy hiss at the contact, ' _One more…'_ It seemed to hiss, ' _One more life to make the dragon take flight'_

Her feet were cut and bleeding with each step as she stumbled forward, to where her brother stood. Aerys was surrounded by guards, his back to the flame as he yelled commands. "Kill them all! Burn them all!" Rossart was throwing something into the flames, causing the green to overcome the red in the coloring of the flames. Diana could only think of feeding the flames, and grabbed her brother by his overtly long hair, the same way he did when he took her against her will. Using the leverage, she yanked him into the flames, her burning hair setting him alight as she drug his flailing body into the flames. His screams gave her a sick sense of satisfaction, his skin puckering and peeling while hers remained unblemished. A cracking sound echoed, and the sound distracted her enough that with his last bit of strength, Aerys pushed his sister further into the flames. She fell on her back, his burning body pinning her down. A screeching noise she had never heard before sounded, and she felt a warm creature slither up her shoulder. She stumbled out of the flames, naked as the day she was born and hair a red flame as the last bits of her once proud silver name smoldered, a baby dragon on her shoulder.

A/N:

Holy shit guys, I wrote this whole fanfic with this one scene in mind, and I am so happy to have finally written it. Please, please, let me know what you guys think!


	55. Chapter 55

Tywin had never felt more rage, and more fear, than when he watched his wife be pushed into the flames. He had tried to keep a steady head as insults were thrown his way, he had heard of the farce of a marriage ceremony Aerys forced his wife to perform, and from a Bard no less. His dagger had plunged into the man's throat before Tywin even thought the action through. The words mocked him still, ' _Dragons come in mates of three, just ask King Aerys. He took the Lion's bride with steel to royal flesh, and now Lady Lannister rests in the Dragon's bed.'_ The man was paid a large pile of gold from the king to deliver that song, a pity it cost him his life.

Tywin's sword hacked down upon the royal loyalists, his rage boiling over. She was dead, his brightheart, gone. What happened to him did not matter anymore, only securing their legacy. He would go down in history as the man who killed the last Targaryen King, and then he would destroy their house, root and stem, until there was not a reminder of a dragon left in the world, a reminder of _her._ He did not think he could bear to look upon his daughter, either, who looked so much like her mother when she was young.

It was chaos around him, Brandon Stark had rushed to his father's side, and was killing the guards who held his kin captive. Tywin only saw red, he killed any Targaryen loyalist around him, and worked his way to the King's guard. Aerys backed himself further away from the fighting, his back growing closer to the flame. Perhaps after his sword pierced the king's heart, he would burn him as well. Yet before he got the chance, a roar came from the fire, an anguished cry that echoed through the hall, and drew the gaze of everyone in the room as the king's screams accompanied the sound. It was Diana, naked as the day she was born, her hair a glow of red flame, as if it were a mane of fire, her hands clawed into her brother's silks and drew them alight. The Targaryen soldiers that were left alive dropped their swords with a loud clang as they watched their king burn, his screams dying mid-cry as he died in agony. The Lannisters showed no mercy though, and to the Starks' horror, slaughtered the unarmed men who had surrendered. At the side door to the throne room, one known by few, Tywin saw Rossart attempt to escape. The man who fed the flames that burned his wife, the Pyromancer turned Hand of the King. "Seize him, I want him alive." Tywin spat, and sheathing his bloodied sword, walked towards the dying flames.

Another screech echoed the halls, inhuman and scathing, and from the dying embers, Diana stepped out of the flames once more, a red dragon curled about her breast and shoulder. Her wrists, hips and neck bore hand print shaped bruises, and her purple eyes were glassy. Tywin felt uneasy seeing his wife so exposed, and moved to drape her with his lion cloak. She fell into his arms, and the dragon curled around her body to not touch him, and he eyed it warily. He scooped his wife into his arms, and moved to leave the throne room without a word. Everyone stared at Diana's passed out form in his arms, and the baby dragon in her lap.

"Find my daughter, and have her brought to me." Tywin ordered, "Kill any who do not let you pass on my command." Ser Surefoot came rushing forward then, his brown eyes wide and frame thin from weeks of confinement.

"Is she alright my lord?" They both looked down at Diana, her waist length hair had been burned to the barest bit of fuzz atop her head, the bags under her eyes speaking to her exhaustion, yet her skin remained unburnt from the flame.

"She has nearly died," Tywin bit out defensively, and watched the young man flinch back. He knew it was not Tywin Surefoot's fault, but the man responsible was dead, by Diana's own hand.

The Lord of Lannister brought his wife to the guest chambers inside the Red Keep, not trusting her to be comfortable in the Maidenvault, royal chambers, or tower of the Hand, weary of what memories she now held of those locations. Tucked into white sheets, Diana seemed even more pale. Right after his wife had been settled in, the dragon eyeing Tywin as he curled about his wife's neck and prepared to sleep with her. He still hadn't quite processed that his wife had hatched a dragon, a feat that had not been achieved in generations.

He did not have the time to think on it though, when the doors opened and Alysanne rushed in, wearing a black dress with the red three headed dragon on the hem. She seemed paler than he remembered as well, her eyes no longer bearing the rose colored glasses of innocence. She knew she was not married to the prince of her dreams, and Tywin felt in that moment that he had truly failed her, for she pinned him with such a look of relief at his presence. "Father!" She rushed forward, clinging him in an embrace, tears openly falling. "Thank the seven you're here!" Alysanne seemed to just then notice her mother's char covered skin, and the resting dragon at her neck.

She jumped back and seemed so fearful in that moment, he wanted to hold her as if she were still a child. "Is that a…?" Her voice was shaking, "What happened, father?"

"The Mad King tried to burn your mother alive." He spat, and she gaped at him. "But she burned him instead, and her egg was in the flames. The house words are fire and blood, I suppose now we know why."

"She was a sight, my lady." Surefoot said then, "A burning lion, Lady Brightheart burned the Mad King alive!" Alysanne stared at him, trying to comprehend the information.

"Aly," Tywin spoke to his daughter then, "What has happened, since your mother and the Starks were taken prisoner?"

She was loathe to speak of it, her words short and clipped. "The King said my Andal blood made me unfit to be Queen after he passed, so he declared an annulment of your marriage, and refused to see me as anything other than a bastard. I was confined to the duties of Queen Rhaella's handmaiden, and whenever the King thought mother was being uncivil, he would have the kingsguard beat me!" Her voice quickly turned into a sob, she did not wish to look to unseemly in front of her father, but her experiences left her shaken.

"I'll have them all drawn and quartered." Tywin vowed, ruthless as he stared as his wife's frail form in bed.

"If the King is dead, does that mean Rhaegar is king now, and I am Queen?" Alysanne asked, and Tywin stared her down with a dark look.

"Do you wish to be Rhaegar's Queen?" He asked dryly, and was rewarded with a revolted look.

"Father, I want to go home!" Alysanne practically sobbed, "I miss Casterly Rock, I hate it here! The Capital is filthy and smells of shit!" Her course language surprised him, but he did not comment on it to her.

"Then you shall return home, and once you are widowed, you may spend a year at the Rock recuperating." Tywin replied.

"A year, what do you mean?" Her violet eyes stared at him, a light lavender.

"A year will be an appropriate amount of time for you to recover, and remarry, ensuring that any child produced is your new husband." Tywin replied with ease, as if he were discussing the weather. But his daughter only gaped at him, and then left the room in a huff. The Lannister lord only shrugged, and resume his vigil beside his wife and her baby dragon.

A/N:

Diana's POV next chapter, with the name of the Dragon. Any guesses as to the name? I'll give you a hint, it's similar to the horses' names.


	56. Chapter 56

Diana woke to the sight of her husband half in a chair and half curled into her side, his blonde hair mussed and his worry lined face smooth with sleep. As she sat up, the dragon curled down to her waist, and she stared at the creature with disbelief. It was not all a dream after all, she was not sure if she should weep or be overjoyed. "Brightfyre." She sired the creature with a soft voice, and the crimson dragon preened at the name. Her fingers ran over the baby dragon's scales, warm to the touch. He cawed at her, a strange little squawk to let her know he was hungry, and her stomach growled as well. ' _When the Andal Divine bleeds Valyrian blood for the First Men, a dragon will be born'_ Her mind recalled the prophecy, toying with it in her mind. The gods had warned her two would die, and she had tried so hard to ensure it was not her Aemon, only to doom Viserys to a bloody fate. She should have known better, the toddler often came to his mother, telling her of how his father would give him a sweet for pointing to a dragon skull and name the creature correctly. His small voice did not fully wrap the words correctly, but he was ever eager to please his father. Of course he would run to him if he were afraid, and his mother was trying to take him away.

She was so sure Rhaella had forgiven her for the imagined slights of her children after what they had experienced together, but would her sister forgive her now? After she caused Viserys's death? After what she would do today?

Tywin sat up next to her with a start, pulling her out of her thoughts. His palms reached out to touch her skin, to brush the fuzz that was left of her hair, to see if she was real. Green eyes stared at her with such relief she could have melted then and there. "Diana…" Her name was a prayer on his lips, and she kissed him before she could blink. Brightfyre huffed and jumped from her body and curled himself at the edge of the bed. Diana pulled herself out of bed and faced her husband, noting he must have dressed her in the nightgown she now wore. "I had servants bring some dresses you left behind at Riverrun." Her shoulders fell in relief at his words as she went to the wardrobe, eyes nearly tearing at the sight of a black dress with golden lions snarling on the hem and shoulders.

"I want a letter sent to Riverrun, to have Catelyn Tully bring the twins with her to the Red Keep." Diana told her husband. He nodded at her, the River road was a straight shot, under a heavy guard the only hassle they would endure would be the Freys, who would wish for a mighty sum that would end up being Lannister gold.

"She is Catelyn Stark now." Tywin corrected, and tied the laces of the midnight gown she draped on herself. "I shall send the letter myself. For now, we must talk of what is to come." A servant knocked before she could reply, with a plate of food to break their fast with. The maid eyed the baby dragon wearily.

"Have a goat butchered, and the meat cut into strips and brought for Brightfyre." Diana commanded, and resisted a wince as the servant curtsied and called her 'your grace.'

"Brightfyre?" Tywin asked, and the dragon raised his head at the mention of his name. They shared a wry smile.

"Like Blackfyre, only he is bright and red." She shrugged, Diana rather liked the name, it simply suited her dragon.

They sat at the chairs before the hearth and picked at the food before them. Nibbling on a strawberry tart, Diana watched her husband pick at a piece of bacon. "Jaime left Riverrun a day after we received your letter. Johanna wrote to me, white knights were seen riding towards Dorne. By now he will be just landing there with a section of the Redwyne fleet."

"What else have I missed?" Diana asked, her month of isolation had left her with little knowledge of the battles fought. "Are the Tyrells still loyal to Rhaegar?"

Tywin's face was grim, "Mace Tyrell has decided not to partake in battle, rather he has laid siege to Storm's End. A few ships have broken the blockade with supplies, but the Redwynes only have so many ships." Diana nodded, thanking the seven she wed her good sister to a man with a fleet. The Targaryen ships still sat in Dragonstone, uncommanded as no one had seen the prince and the king had yet to call for naval aid.

"How many crewmen do we have?" Diana asked, pondering. The Iron Islands had been rather quiet, but they would start reaving soon, with war starting.

"Fit for sailing? We've five hundred seasoned veterans without ties to a ship and a thousand green boys itching to sail." Tywin replied, considering the figures. With the dead men from the war of Ninepenny kings came children who inherited an apprenticeship in sailing. Ironic, now, that they were sending men to Riverrun to sail ships, for the Lannister's had yet to finish building the rest.

"The ships in Dragonstone, the sailors have been ordered to pick up their swords and march to the Reach, it was Aerys final order." Diana recalled, "The ships are just sitting there, he needed the men, not the navy."

"Then we march on Dragonstone, commandeer the ships, and lift the siege on Storm's end, bringing the Reach to heel." Tywin reflected, "It's brilliant." He grinned at her, and she remembered how much she had missed him.

"It's just...my sister fled to Dragonstone." Diana whispered, picking at her food more than actually eating it. "She is with child, Tywin. Seven moons when she left, the Maester guessed." Fear gripped her then, Tywin would not allow a boy to live, a child king.

"I am sure she shall surrender peacefully." Tywin offered in response, and she smiled weakly at him. "Diana, Jaime has vowed to kill Rhaegar. When he has, the throne shall be vacant."

He stared intently at her then and her voice was strong as she spoke, "Queen Regnant and King Consort, long may we reign." Tywin grinned at her then, and raised his glass.

"How is Aly?" Diana asked, biting her lip. She wished to see her daughter, but knew the court would be expecting her to make an appearance.

"She understands her duty." Tywin replied, and Diana glared at him.

"Duty? She is seventeen and about to be widowed, she has been through hell, Tywin!" Diana scolded him, huffing as she stood. She wished to go to her daughter, but the servant returned with the meat she ordered, and she commanded her daughter to be summoned instead.

"Then speak with her." Tywin growled, and left to send the ravens that needed sending. Diana focused on her dragon, offering the raw meat to the small beast. Brightfyre continued to huff at his food, until a small flame came from his mouth and his meat was charred. Pride flared in her chest as she watched her child eat. Mother of a dragon, she never thought she would see the day.

"Mother?" Alysanne's voice called out, and Diana noted that her old wardrobe was returned to her as well, a crimson gown swathing her daughter.

"Alysanne!" Diana hugged her daughter, clutching her closely. "I am so sorry, Aly, for everything."

"Mother, are you alright?" Eyes matching the color of her own stared back at her, colored with worry. "Did you really kill him?"

Word travelled fast, she had no doubt. "The king died by my hand." She confessed, "He would have killed us all in the end."

Tears filled Alysanne's eyes, "Father wishes me to marry again, I loved Rhaegar, mother. But after everything that has happened, I do not wish to be his Lady wife, but that does not mean I wish to wed someone else!" Guilt stabbed at her as she realized how young her daughter was, it was not fair to push her so much.

"Hush, love. It's alright." Diana coddled her daughter, "I will not make you remarry. You may grow old in Casterly Rock or join the Septas for all I care!" Alysanne snorted at the thought, and the smile that cracked her face brought Diana joy.

"Thank you, mother!" Alysanne replied, and she smiled at her.

A/N:

Diana is a lot more lenient, especially after everything that has happened. She is not thinking politically, she is thinking as a mother.

I tried to implement any questions from reviews into this chapter. Little battle strategy here, next chapter jumps to Jaime, to answer those who asked about him. Lyanna was kidnapped about 2 months ago, and the next chapter jumps another month ahead.

I can't wait to write the scene where Diana sits atop the Iron Throne :)


	57. Chapter 57

Jaime and the rest of the crew aboard _The Brightheart_ anchored upon the shores of Sunspear, the Dornish heat and salty air making the heir to Lannister feel awfully sticky. His clothes stuck to his skin, even though they were lightest material he owned. Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn greeted Jaime at the port. The younger prince looked venomously at him, while the ruling prince projected an aura of calm. "Welcome, my lord." Doran greeted, and they exchanged bows.

"I thank you for welcoming me into Dorne, my prince." Jaime replied, to which Doran smiled stiffly. Lewyn Martell of the kingsguard was last rumored to be travelling with Prince Rhaegar, and to Dorne no less. The Dornish had not raised their spears for either side, although rumor had it Lady Johanna Martell still kept in touch with her Lannister kin. His father had often said they should travel to Firefall and see their second cousins, but his mother had looked so haunted at the thought of being anywhere near where her grandfather, his great grandfather, Aegon the Unlikely, had met his demise.

"Of course," The prince motioned a servant forward, with bread and salt. Jaime took a loaf offered, breaking off a piece and swirling it into the salt before taking a large bite, sealing his guest rights. He thought it rather blunt of them, to show they meant no harm before he even stepped foot into their keep.

"Thank you." Jaime repeated himself, motioning to the bread and salt. "Have you heard from your uncle?" From the whispers of spies, he had gleaned that the Martell knight's paramour had escaped the city soon after his mother had been taken hostage, and made her way to Sunspear for protection of her lover's family.

Oberyn shook his head, "His Lady speaks to how the King took your mother to wife, and forced his rights upon her." Jaime curled his lip, before he realized that the prince was goading him, looking for a weakness to exploit, a button to push.

"And he shall face my father's wrath for it." Jaime simply responded, squaring his shoulders. Brynden Tully walked from the gangplank down to join him, munching on salted bread. The fish bowed to the princes, but said nothing. They had a fleet with them of ten ships, carrying a hundred men each, but had brought only the flagship to shore, lest they spook the Dornish into thinking they planned to attack them.

"You did not hear then." Oberyn flashed a triumphant smile, "He marches upon King's Landing as we speak, perhaps he already has." The second son had the eyes of a viper, and seemed ready to strike out at him.

"Come, let us guide you to your chambers, so you and your companions may rest." Doran said civilly, ever the diplomat. Dorne had been neutral the entire war, but now both a lion and a dragon were in their lands, at least if the rumors of Rhaegar's decent here from the Riverlands was to be believed.

Jaime was led to airy chambers overlooking the bay his ship docked in, the large open windows billowing in salty air to counteract the harsh, dry heat. He asked for a bath to be drawn for him, and as it was prepared he sat before the desk in the room, taking advantage of the proffered papers and pens. He wrote to his father, to tell him that he had arrived in Dorne a week later than expected due to the harsh summer storm they encountered. When a maid told him his bath had been drawn, he gave her the letter and a golden dragon, instructing her to take the letter to the rookery.

The Lannister heir made quick work to bathe the smell of the sea from his body, and don a light tunic of crimson. He forwent the golden sword he received for his last name day, choosing a dragonbone dagger for his belt instead. It was less gaudy and would draw less attention. Two hours after he arrived in Sunspear, Jaime was escorted to a dining hall for a small feast with the Martells. A man with copper hair sat next to a woman with golden curls, who reminded him of his Aunt Genna, with a young man and maiden beside them. The Martells of Firefall, Jaime had no doubt. Rumor had it they had yet to decide on a cadet branch name, leaving the surname for their heir to decide. He had never met his father's cousin, but she smiled warmly at him. Next to the couple sat Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia was nowhere to be found.

"Lord Jaime!" Johanna Martell greeted the man with a bright smile, "It is so good to finally meet my Lannister cousin!" Her husband's face darkened at the name, as if it were cursed.

Jaime kissed both her cheeks softly as she embraced him. "Thank you, Lady Martell. My parents have spoken highly of you." A lie spoken easily, Lannisters had golden tongues after all.

He sat at the seat offered to him, across from the royal family of Dorne. No one had moved to eat yet, he noticed, and looked questioning to Lady Johanna. "There is one more dining with us, Lady Ashara Dayne has ridden hard for a week, and asks to speak with my good nephew, yet she insists you be present, Jaime." Jaime furrowed his brow, the sister of the kingsguard who took his betrothed? The Dornish were bold, he knew, but were they bringing the Dayne maiden to insult him?

Before he could think it over more, the doors opened once more, and a travel warned woman in dirtied riding clothes entered, covering in sweat and dust. "My prince!" She bowed quickly, her purple eyes, a dark shade, wide with horror.

"Lady Ashara, had I known you would get such use from Sunburst, I would have gifted you a sand steed sooner." Oberyn quipped, and Jaime gaped slightly. The Dornish were known for their speedy steeds, who could ride for day and night at top speed and never tire. Just where was this woman coming from?

"King Aerys is dead, my prince." The Stony Dornish maiden stated flatly. She was in court? Jaime racked his brain, thinking back to his mother and her flurry of highborn ladies around her. Then he remembered it was not his mother who had Ashara in her service, but Alysanne. ' _The Queen insists I take a Dornish handmaiden, what if she tries to bed my husband with her wanton ways?'_ His twin's voice rang in his head, and he thought back to when his sister had arrived in King's Landing as Princess of Dragonstone, with a handmaiden from every kingdom as a sign of unity. He never thought to think of just who they were or what happened to them once his mother had been taken prisoner.

"The lion raked his claws across the dragon's back at last." Doran stated, and Jaime wondered why he would be privy to such a meeting.

"No, my prince." Ashara looked at Jaime then, "Rickard Stark was set to burn at the stake for treason, but Diana Targaryen was taken instead, along with Prince Viserys, who did not survive. Lady Diana walked from the flames and pulled her brother into it, and when the flames died out, she walked out with a baby dragon. The Lannisters style themselves as King and Queen now."

He was a prince, no, the heir to Westeros? He blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was being told. His parents had taken the throne, and were staking a claim. Everyone at the table seemed to stare at him then, weighing his worth.

"I'm sure a raven demanding fealty shall come soon as well." Doran said eventually, he looked to Ashara again, "How did you escape?"

"Lady Alysanne was forced to serve as handmaiden to Queen Rhaella, leaving her own to their own devices, Ladies Tyrell, Brax, Estermont and Forrester left to their own homes not long after, leaving only myself, Lady Connington and Lady Waynwood, yet they fled as soon as their families called their banners. When court was called to watch Lord Stark perish, I ran to the stables the moment Lady Diana emerged from the flame, hair still burning." Ashara explained, exhaustion coloring her features.

Oberyn did not seem to know what to think of the information, while Mors and Johanna looked grim. Doran remained neutral, but one could see the thought process forming in his mind. "Lord Jaime, I would have you return to your rooms after our meal." The King was dead, leaving only Rhaegar as a claimant of male Targaryen blood. The Dornish would need to decide then and there, to side with the lion or the dragon. As Jaime sipped at his red wine and ate in silence with the others at the table as Ashara was dismissed to bathe and rest, he watched everyone silently eat. It amazed him how the game of thrones was not played in battlefields, but at dinner tables.

A/N:

So I wanted the Dornish to be aware of Diana's dragon and the Lannister claim to the throne, as they have been neutral thus far. Yet now, they know that Rhaegar was headed to the tower of Joy and have Jaime Lannister in Sunspear, with nine hundred men docked off shore.


	58. Chapter 58

Doran stared calmly at his brother as he paced within the Prince of Dorne's personal solar. The room was round, with a sun pierced by a spear etched into the marble floors covering the ground beneath their feet. "First the lions steal my sister's crown, and now they take it for themselves?" Oberyn raged. Doran sighed, this argument again. His mother, before her death a year before of fever, had plotted with the Queen that should she bear a son as she did, Elia would step in as bride for Rhaegar. His sister would do her duty, he had no doubt, but he knew she would not be happy outside of Dorne. She was always a frail thing, like her mother and namesake, and the heat of the Dornish sand seemed to breath life into her fragile bones. Doran wished that Arthur had never joined the Kingsguard, his sister would have been kin with her childhood companion Ashara through marriage.

"Do you honestly think our sister would have been happy in the viper's den of King's Landing, with the Mad King and a prince obsessed with prophesy?" Doran questioned, and his brother finally stilled from his frantic pacing.

Oberyn fixed him with a humourless smile, "A viper's den? And here they call me the Red Viper." The second son glared at the eldest then, "I would have gone with her, who better to protect her from snakes than a snake itself?"

"And you would have watched her waste away as her husband ran off with a Stark maiden, and she was kept hostage as a means to bring Dornish spears to the dragon's side." Doran calmly replied, "The Lannisters are not our enemy, brother. But they are not our allies yet either."

"So we hide in Sunspear?" Oberyn snarled, he was eager to fight, they both knew. He longed to wield his poison tipped spear and win glory for himself and justice for his people. Doran was happy to sit in his corner of the world and stay there, Oberyn wanted to explore, to gain power and prestige, bed maidens and kill men.

"No, brother." The Prince said with a coy smile, "We have sat idle too long, the Lannisters have the support of the Riverlands, the North, the Vale and of course, the West. The crownlands will fall with the King dead, and word has it ships sail to Storm's end to lift the siege while soldiers march to take dragonstone, ending the Queen and taking the Royal Navy. When the Reach falls, what do you think they will do?"

"They will turn to Dorne, and rain down fire and blood." Oberyn stated, but his brother corrected him.

"We will hear them roar, there is no doubt. Unless we barter for what we want." Doran supplied, "When the heralding announcement comes out, officially naming Tywin Lannister king of Westeros, we shall request that Jaime, as heir to the throne, be seen as an envoy of the Iron Throne."

"Why not take him hostage?" The Red Viper asked, "Confine him to his rooms and make our demands, Dorne has never fallen to outside invasion."

"Because that is an act of war, not a sue for peace." Doran replied impatiently, "The Lannister is like a lion cub, easily flattered and he has none of his father's cunning. I want Dorne to have a seat on the Small council, with you serving, perhaps as Master of War. Our uncle is to be returned to Dorne, unharmed and released of his vows if he wishes, or to be reinstated in the Lannister Kingsguard."

"Those are steep demands." Oberyn replied, "I will be happy to negotiate them out with the little lion."

Doran shook his head, "No, I am Prince of Dorne, it is my responsibility." Oberyn opened his mouth to argue but shut it at his brother's piercing stare.

A servant knocked and informed of a letter from the Rookery, bearing the oddest sigil. A golden snarling lion with a mane of red fire on a field of black.

A/N:

Just wanted to give a glimpse into Doran's mindset of the war, considering Dorne is the only nation to have not joined the fray. It's not so much at the Martells hate the Lannisters, they are just wary of them, since the Princess of Dorne and Queen Rhaella were friends.

Also, Diana is thinking of gathering the ships to gain naval support, while also having an excuse to ensure Rhaella's safety.

Tywin agreed to this because he wants to rid the world of the only other woman with more claim than Diana to the throne after Rhaegar goes down, he doesn't care a lick about the ships.


	59. Chapter 59

Tywin had always wanted to be the most powerful man in the realm, but he never imagined himself as King, he never dared to dream of what could not possibly be. Yet there he was, watching his wife pace before him, a golden crown with a lion roaring flames emblazoned upon it, rubies shining in the form of fire in the light. A large table was before them, with a map of Westeros before them, a bastardized version of the Painted table in Dragonstone, laid heavy with maps of soldiers and ships.

Something had broken in Diana, in their relationship, yet neither spoke of it. Tywin had to move slowly around her, as if she were a spooked animal. If he reached for her in the night her entire body would jump and tense, and he knew she thought the hand was her brother's. Oh to bring a man back from the dead if only to kill him again! His Valyrian Queen barely slept anymore, always sitting before the fire with her dragon in her lap. The beast was easily the size of a pony, but she had refused to allow him to be kept in the stables or the dungeon, but had converted a guest suite into a comfortable den for the creature. Once the war was won, Diana spoke of rebuilding the Dragonpit, turning part of it into a large keep for their family, the other to house her dragon and any other dragons that may come into the world. Tywin was still not sure how she survived, he never believed in magic, yet her body hummed with it as she stepped from the flames. She spoke of things that would cost thousands of gold dragons, but he could easily tax the rebel houses for years, garnering the lost sums with ease.

"The Coronation is today, in less than an hour yet the High Septon has not been informed?" Tywin broached the topic with his wife. They were both already dressed, swatched in fine silks and priceless jewels. "Septons crown Monarchs, my lady." Her slippered feet stopped their route around the table, and her violet eyes stared at him.

"I do not want a reminder of the Targaryen Dynasty." She said simply, as if the realm would simply follow, "I will crown you, and you shall crown me. The claim to the throne is Targaryen blood, but a Lannister shall rule from now on, an even exchange of power between King and Queen."

He blinked at her, unsure of what to think. The faith would throw a fit no doubt, but he knew his wife would fight him on this occasion. "Why can the Septon not simply crown us both?" His pretty wife frowned at him delicately, a haunted gaze falling over her. She did not want the High Septon there at all, he realized. "Diana, why do you dislike the Septon?" Rage flashed in her for a moment, then dimmed just as rapidly.

"Aerys threatened to have him gutted if he did not perform a marriage ceremony. In the Great Sept my ancestor built, that man wed me to my brother while a knight who swore vows to protect women and children held a blade to my daughter's throat!" Diana snarled, "Everything King Aegon built has been made a mockery of, so I will tear it down, stone by stone, and build it a new."

There were those to say Diana turned her cloak to her family, but it was not true. Looking at her shaking form, clothed in golden silks and black lions, with the large golden lion necklace that held a ruby stone in his mouth, he knew she equalized everything Targaryen with her brother, with what he had done and what she had been forced to do. She wanted to destroy the Targaryen legacy, and replace it with a Lannister one. "The Kingsguard was a nearsighted institution." Tywin offered to her, "What good is a lifelong vow to protect someone, when age makes for a weak soldier?"

His wife brightened in front of him, and he warmed at the sight. "Exactly! We have no obligation to traditions held by a previous dynasty. The Kingsguard should not be for life, but a set of years determined."

"Seven Kingsguard for seven years." Tywin offered, standing to escort her to the throne room. "What of the Small Council? I found it rather productive."

Diana nodded, he knew she had never been privy to such meetings before, and knew not of what occurred there, only the positions filled. "I want a Kingdom to fill each seat in the council. The Blackfish would make an excellent Master of Ships, or perhaps your good brother, Lord Redwyne."

"A Northern Man should be Master of Laws, they are so concerned with honor, it would fit well." Tywin proffered as they walked arm in arm. The hallways that were once guest chambers had been refurbished to fit the needs of royals, Diana refused to step foot where her brother's chambers once lay. Lion banners hung on the wall, the traditional standard of house Lannister, and the sigil that would serve as the Royal house, a golden lion on a field of black, with a mane of red flames.

Tywin had invested in a few bards and mummers, who travelled the seven kingdoms, speaking of the Brightheart, the firemane, the mother of dragons, and the fall of the mad king. The small folk ate the words and songs up, falling at the Lannister's feet. Ravens flew to every keep and castle in the realm, declaring the reign of King Tywin and Queen Diana Lannister, and soon court would be filled with lords and heirs swearing fealty. Already, the lords of the North, Riverlands, Stormlands and some from the Vale, had arrived with their men. A battle had broken out between the loyalist Valemen and the rebel ones, Jon Arryn had been riding to meet with his former ward, Robert Baratheon, who was leading a group of Stormlands men to meet with the Vale and Riverland groups. Jon Connington lead the Targaryen loyalists, his grief over the death of the mad king well known. With a mighty swing of his war hammer, Robert Baratheon slew the Rooster and brought the Vale to heel.

Slowly but surely, a new dynasty was forming, in the image of Lannister. Lion banners were being sewn round the clock, and Tywin sent word to the Redwynes, aid would be coming to lift the siege of Storm's End. For four moons, the castle had been deprived of supplies, save for the few vessels that slipped through Shipbreaker bay. Once the naval fleet was taken from Dragonstone, and Queen Rhaella slain, the Reach would break and bend the knee. Ser Lorch was amongst the soldiers and sailors, given specific instructions on how to handle to last Targaryen Queen, Tywin was mindful that the woman was his good sister after all. She and her child would receive a quick, painless death. Once the bodies were shown to court, he would allow his wife to bury her sister with their ancestors.

The crown that sat on his wife's brow was taken off her head as they walked towards the throne room. Most coronations were in the Great Sept, another change made from their predecessors. Court was waiting for them, standing easily despite the extra people due to the removal of the Dragon skulls, which had been moved underground. In a flurry of golden silks, Diana swept into the room with Tywin at her side, wearing a fresh blood red tunic. Alysanne stood beside the steps leading to the Iron throne, and curtsied with the rest of the nobles. His eldest daughter was quite enraptured with her mother's dragon, and took care of it as much as Diana did. Brightfyre had taken to curling around the swords of the iron throne, looming over the court with an occasional huff. He stared down the Lannister king and queen as they walked up to the throne.

"Nobles of Westeros," Diana began the speech he had heard her practice so many times before in the weeks of grieving that passed before the coronation, "Today, the reign of Targaryen Kings comes to an end, the madness of the dragon is over. Today, the reign of Lannister kings begin, the glory of the lion has come!" Banners fell from the wall then, revealing the royal standard of Lannister, the lion with a mane of fire.

A Septa came forward then, with a larger crown than the tiara like one Diana wore earlier. Golden spirals spun around the base of the crown, three fingers wide, with the sigil of every great house etched in fine detail along the sides, the creatures all bowing towards the center of the crown, where a lion roared, black onyx eyes and mane of tiny rubies catching in the light like true flames would. Diana knelt before her husband, and the crown weighed heavy in his hands. "With this act, I crown you Queen Diana of the house Lannister, the burning lion, the brightheart, mother of Brightfyre and Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lady regnant and protector of the realm." The fine jewelry fit perfectly upon his wife's head, his fingers brushing the silk fuzz of her remaining hair.

As Tywin knelt, he was surprised to see an old man in strange robes step forth then, a wierwood tree pin on his breast. He held a crown more masculine and slightly larger than Diana's, with a normal golden lion roaring as the sigils of every kingdom bowed around the edges. "With this act, I crown you King Tywin of the house Lannister, the golden lion, the Stranger's Hand, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, lord regnant and protector of the realm."

Tywin rose from his kneeling stance, and took his wife's hand in his own as he led her up the steps to the Iron Throne. He moved to sit upon it, but Brightfyre lashed out then, hissing at him. All of court watched with baited breath as Tywin stared down the dragon, before nodding his head ever so slightly, and moving to help his wife sit. Diana looked taken back for a moment, but swished her skirts out and sat upon the throne she had desired since childhood. Slowly, Tywin descended the steps, practically growling at anyone who dared look to defy him or his wife. He looked up at Diana then, and saw her glowing with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment he had never seen in her before.

A/N:

After dreaming of it all her life, Diana sits upon the Iron throne with a lion guarding her feet. :')

Random thing, the song "Biloxi Parish" by The Gaslight Anthem is totally Tywin to Diana haha. I'm debating if next chapter should be Diana's POV talking about the game of thrones, or Jaime's POV where he deals with Oberyn.


	60. Chapter 60

Diana dreamed of darkness, of a shadow stretching out its cold claws and wrapping around her pale throat, of her sister's crown falling from the tallest tower of Dragonstone and into the swirling waters with a mute sound, of a direwolf whelping in the sand, of a dragon and a lion spinning around each other snarling and biting.

Every night, her mind conjured the strange images, and memories of her brother hissing of the three headed dragon as he took her against her will. She had tried to erase every memory of him, cast out every three headed dragon banner and watched them burn. ' _You have lived as a lion for too long'_ The words of the gods hissed in her ear, and she wanted to scream. What had being a Targaryen ever gotten her? The spare princess, meant to be married off for the sake of soothing the irate nobles who were once again denied the opportunity for their daughter to be queen. She dreamed since she was a child of sitting atop the Iron throne, with a lion at her feet. Yet in making her vision come true, she had become a lioness herself.

Brightfyre seemed to sense his mother's dark mood. He grew larger and larger each day, and Diana spent more time with him every day, teaching him. The converted guest chambers once contained vaulted ceilings, a large expanse of a single room with large doors with an even more impressive balcony overlooking the sea. The room was on the far end of the Red Keep, an entire wall opening to the balcony that faced the expanse of sea. Builders and stone workers made quick work of the area, removing the doors and clearing any furniture. Diana stood at the outskirts of the balcony, the dragon the size of a war horse before her, flapping his wings experimentally over the edge. He was still learning to fly, to hover in place and not shoot himself into a certain direction. The chamber worked well for him, as he had yet to master long flights, so he could test his wings over the empty sea and return to his nest without ever being sighted by smallfolk. A separate expense column had to be added to the royal treasury just to pay for the amount of sheep and other animals the ever growing dragon seemed to consume. Brightfyre was never full, it seemed. Diana hoped that once her dragon had enough flight control, he might be taught to fly for his food in the water, collecting fish and other sea creatures.

Brightfyre was a curious creature, always squawking out little clicking sounds, and attempting to breathe fire. The flame he produced reached only a foot out, but was enough to cook his food for him. Soon he would be roaming over the Red Keep, and Diana feared he would fly too far and not return. The Maesters had been helpful, and books from the Citadel on dragons written by those present when her ancestors rode their own beasts. It would be another six moons before she could even attempt to mount her dragon, and complete the connection between them. All the recounts said the same, a dragon only accepted one living rider at a time.

Her blood red dragon twisted his head to the side, breaking the eye contact with her to look over her shoulder. She turned to see a servant slowly walking towards her. "Your grace, Lady Stark has arrived, and was instructed by the King to come to you at once."

Confusion colored her for a moment, for a moment thinking he was referring to her future good daughter, until a shock of red hair appeared from the room. Catelyn Stark, formerly Catelyn Tully, stood before her, heavy with a child of her own while carrying two in her arms. Visenya and Aemon had grown so much since she had seen them last, she could have wept. Catelyn stared fearfully at the form of fire made flesh before her, before Tully blue eyes swept to the Queen's short stock of hair and golden crown. Diana rushed forward, breaking the woman out of her shocked standstill, and moved to curtsy. The royal moved to take her children before the lady had a chance to complete the show of respect. Visenya held her father's eyes, golden curls quickly growing as she fussed against her mother's chest. Aemon was calm, lilac eyes serene and his head sporting silver hair, pin straight. The babes both stared at the dragon before them in awe.

Catelyn looked about to scream when the beast landed before them, his head coming forward to sniff the twins delicately. Diana had no fear, Brightfyre had the same reaction to Alysanne, it was as if the beast recognised his kin. Visenya stopped squirming immediately, giving a toothless smile and reaching a tiny fist towards the dragon.

"Thank you, Lady Stark." Diana said after a moment, "For watching over my children." With Jaime in Dorne and Daemon fortifying Harrenhal as a proper defensible keep, Diana needed her youngest children with her, to know they were safe.

"Of course, your grace." Catelyn replied with a slight shake in her voice, and Diana smiled at her.

"Brightfyre, sōvēs." Diana commanded, breaking the dragon from his reverie with the children, he seemed to huff at her, before taking a few experimental flaps of his wings and took to the air. He could go short distances, and with a swish, flew to the other side of the balcony, careening himself into the den he had made for himself within the opposite side of the open chambers.

With the dragon not within personal distance, Lady Stark visibly relaxed. Diana quirked a wry smile at her and moved to walk from the chambers. "Come, you must be travel ridden and sore, I shall send for some tea and have servants draw you a bath while we drink." Cat smiled at her politely, and her blue eyes flashed with thankfulness.

With her children in her arms, Diana walked the halls of the Red Keep. They made their way to the Queen's ballroom, and sat in the overstuffed couches. A maid scurried to fetch refreshments, and Diana memorised every change and growth her children made while she was a part from them. "It is a lovely room, your grace." Catelyn offered after a moment of silence.

Diana smiled wistfully, "I was never allowed in here as a child, my mother was worried that my sister or I might break something." The room was lavishly decorated, with furniture imported from Myr and stained glass windows imported from Pentos.

"Queen Shaera was as any mother would be, I imagine." Catelyn replied, "Worried of children with sticky fingers."

"Perhaps." Her smile turned strained and sad, "Rhaella could never bring herself to come in here after mother died. She was closer to her, as the eldest daughter and female heir. The room reminded her too much of mother."

"And you, your grace?" Catelyn asked, and her boldness seemed to shock even her.

Diana stared at the walls surrounding them, of the portraits of King Aegon the Unlikely and his Blackwood bride facing the image of her own parents. There were paintings of every royal couple since King Jaehaerys the Second, after his sister wife, Good Queen Alysanne had started the tradition of hanging a royal portrait in the very same ballroom. Aerys had scoffed at the idea of sitting for hours to have a portrait commissioned, and without a reason to come into the room, if only to continue the tradition, the ballroom fell into disuse.

"I loved my mother, but she loved me the way she loved that vase." Diana replied evenly, her wrist flicking towards the piece of art that stood above the fireplace, a seemingly old piece of work that cost a fortune. "Yet is strangely comforting to be in here, as if she were about to come in and scold me for being here. The thrills of childhood I suppose."

Catelyn smiled at her then, a true one that Diana felt was almost not meant for her, as the girl had a far off gaze. "My mother passed a few years ago, bringing my brother into the world. It took me months to be able to walk into her solar."

"Are you afraid?" Diana asked then, gesturing to the swell of Cat's belly. She had wed five moons ago and it showed.

Catelyn looked so young to her then, even though she was a year older than Diana was when she was heavy with Alysanne and Jaime. "Sometimes I'm scared out of my wits, others I am so happy I could weep." The redhead replied, and moved to begin preparing their tea as a servant bustled in.

"Allow me." Diana moved to take over, and fussed over preparing the girl's tea with a good dose of sweet milk and placed a plate with a honeyed biscuit next to the teacup. "My husband plans to march with the troops to lift the siege of Storm's End, Brandon will no doubt follow, as his father is still ill." The days in the Black Cells had left Rickard Stark a shadow of himself, he was so malnourished he was skin and bones and they had to keep him on a diet of broth for the first week of recovery to allow his body to adjust to food once more. Ned Stark was slightly better, but had a wound in his leg that had festered, and the Maester worried he may have to take the leg to keep it from rot. The image of a one-legged Ned crossed her mind then, and drew her back to Gregor Clegane. The Mountain on the Wall, they called him. The boy she had maimed in her rage had grown into a monster of a man, looming over Castle Black, his stump wrists fashioned with contraptions built by the Night's Watch smith, a hammer and a dagger coming from the cuffs that covered his brutalized flesh.

"I pray to the Warrior every day for his strength to be with my Lord husband." Catelyn said earnestly, nibbling on the biscuit before her.

Diana grinned darkly, "Is it not better to pray for the Stranger to pass over our loved ones?" Oh, how many times she had prayed that the Stranger pass over her sister and her unborn child, and for the Mother to guide Tywin Surefoot to Rhaella in time. A smuggler by the name of Davos agreed to take Tywin to Dragonstone on a small ship meant for sneaking goods. The Sworn Shield was sent with a large chest of gold, and the crown Rhaella wore as a princess, a sign of trust. His instructions were simple, spirit Rhaella away from Dragonstone and to Pentos, where more money would be placed into an account with the Iron Bank, enough for her to live a quiet, cushioned life with her child. Diana only hoped that the smuggler's ship was faster than the quick pace her husband had ordered the soldiers to keep on their way to Dragonstone.

"Perhaps I should simply pray to each of the Seven in turn for protection." Catelyn replied, and her quick thought pleased Diana. She saw Brandon and Sandor as her own children, and she was happy to see one of them wed to a noble maiden worthy of them. As much money as Diana had poured into lotions and salves (much to Tywin's displeasure), Sandor had scarred horribly from the flames, and she knew he would have a harder time finding a bride. Even as heir to the Clegane lands, he may end up wed to a Frey.

"A good idea." Diana stated, and they sat in a comfortable silence, sipping their tea and listening to the children babble to each other from their spot on the couch, pinned in with pillows.

A/N:

I decided to do Diana's POV just to give some time between this scene and Jaime's next scene in Dorne. The war is going to last about a year, and has reached it's halfway point about here.

Now, I don't want to spoil it, but Tywin and Diana have different views when it comes to Rhaella. Tywin sees her as a threat, Diana sees her as her sister. So, they are plotting behind each other's back to either save or kill her.

Also, I did some research on A Wiki of Ice and Fire, and it says that dragons grow as much as they are fed, and now much room they have. Hence, the large space for Brightfyre that allows him to fly and eat a ton.


	61. Chapter 61

Jaime received a flurry of ravens in his time at Sunspear. His mother wrote to him at length, describing how she hatched her dragon and how he grew by the day, how he was her heir to the throne, a crown prince. His father spoke to the same effect, reminding him of his duty to the realm, to house Lannister. He was to broker the Dornish to their side, while his father brought the Reach to heel. His sister wrote to him, her feminine scrawl a balm to him, she wrote to her twin of trivial things as much as important things, reading her letters relaxed him. There was no expectation in her writings, only musings on court and their childhood. She too wrote of Brightfyre, of his crimson scales and tiny wings. Alysanne wished for an egg of her own, and wrote of the four remaining eggs from the tragedy of Summerhall.

The Prince of Lannister and the Prince of Martell bartered back and forth for nearly two months, on trade agreements, betrothal contracts, the kingsguard and the small council. Doran would flash a calm smile, his eyes like steel as he spoke evenly of the stubbornness of Dorne, and how resilient the land could be. Jaime merely quipped of how he could drink their wine until he was old and grey, but he had a dragon prince to slay, and a maiden to rescue.

Today, he hoped to finalize a peace between Dorne and the Iron Throne. In his crimson tunic and the thin circlet crown he had commissioned by a Dornish armourer, he walked into the small hall that had served as the meeting place for talks of peace. Doran was already there, Oberyn by his side drinking a goblet of wine.

Jaime nodded at the two men and set before them, "My princes, I have thought on our words these past few weeks, and believe we may reach a middle ground and have peace at last." Jaime began, and poured himself a glass of Dornish red. "Prince Oberyn shall serve as a member of the Small Council, the seat of the King and Queen's choosing."

"Agreed." Doran said with a nod, and a scribe began to write out the terms of the treaty. That point had been an argument, if the King and Queen chose the seat, Doran argued that he should choose the person to send.

"Princess Elia shall serve as my mother's handmaiden, until the war is won, and shall marry Neddard Stark, with the crown paying for the renovation of the keep of the Stark's choosing within the North as Dowry." Jaime offered, voice flat. He had tried to barter for his cousin, Tywin Redwyne, to wed the princess, but the five years Elia had on the heir to the Arbor squashed that plan. He finally broke down and wrote to Lord Rickard, asking that his second son be betrothed to the princess of Dorne and given lands in the North. According to his mother's last letter, the betrothal had brought a spark of life back to the Stark lord's eye.

"Yes." Doran replied once more, and Oberyn glared daggers at his brother. Jaime had quickly learned that the second son thought no man was good enough for his precious sister, whom they had hidden away at the Water Gardens.

"Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur shall be released of their King's guard vows, and should they willingly surrender Lady Lyanna, no harm shall come to them." Jaime grit out. He wanted to run his sword through Dayne, but peace had to be bought. Word had quickly spread of what had happened to the Whent and Hightower, the King's guard in the capital when his father took the throne. In full bloodied armour, their bodies hung from the main gate of the Red Keep, a silent warning to all those who enter. Ser Dayne and Ser Martell were last seen with Rhaegar, while Darry had fled the capital with Queen Rhaella.

"Even if she is dead." Oberyn spat then, and Jaime's hand itched for his sword. "Our men are returned to us, alive and well."

"If they surrender, no harm shall come to them." Doran intermediated, "No matter the condition Lady Stark is found in."

Jaime grit his teeth, "And should they refuse to give her up, even after a direct order from their prince?" The wording he used set teeth on edge, for he could easily mean himself or either of the men before him.

"Should they not obey Prince Oberyn's command, they shall take the Black." Doran amended, "He shall accompany you into battle, and lead the Dornish Spears should they fight." Jaime simply nodded his approval. The prince of Dorne smiled at him then, and held out his hand to shake. "We are in agreement then?" Doran questioned.

"Yes." Jaime said flatly. "And in exchange, Dorne will fully cooperate with Lannister efforts to find Lady Lyanna and destroy Rhaegar Targaryen. The King and Queen will also expect a public swearing of fealty in King's Landing." The scribe wrote in a flurry of a quill that dipped quickly in and out of an ink well every now and then. Their hands wrapped at the wrist and with one languid movement, Dorne joined the game of thrones.

A/N:

Kudos to ImpSlapFury for figuring out a potiental threat to the Dornish. Jaime is still only 17, and a novice to the game, but Diana is very aware of Dornish inheritance policies.

Next chapter, a special POV, correct guesses get shout outs


	62. Chapter 62

Rhaella stared at the open expanse before her, the Chamber of the Painted Table was a steep climb to get to, one the Maesters had warned her not to partake at half past eight moons with child. Her sister was always the clairvoyant, the one who dreamed and wandered, yet here she was. Rhaella watched the sea flicker beneath the open balcony before her, the entire sky swallowing the world around her. In the time of true Targaryens, they built the castle with their dragons in mind. Before this table, King Aegon the First plotted to unite the seven kingdoms under the three headed dragon banner, oh how he would rage to see them now. The Velaryons, their closest kin and allies, had turned their backs on the royal loyalists, Lady Alyssa Brax was once a Velaryon herself, and as a Lady of the Westerlands and only daughter to their late lord father, her brother sided with the Lannisters. The seahorse fleet blocked in the warships that Dragonstone prided itself on, yet in the end it was their greatest weakness. The large ships could not slip through the tightly wound blockade of Redwyne and Velaryon ships before them. What irony that Dragonstone be laid siege to just as the one on Storm's End was being lifted.

Word had reached the Island of Dragonstone too soon of the Lannister army marching to their gates, there was nowhere else for her to flee to. She was a dowager queen now, one son lost to the flames that took her brother and husband, while her eldest son would face off against a lion of his own. Rhaegar, her sweet, foolish son. He could have been the greatest king Westeros would have seen, but he cared too much for prophesy. She blamed herself in that regard, she had tried so hard to shield her boys from their father's madness, yet it only encouraged them to listen to the king's great tales of magic and prophesy on the days when he was kind to them.

The Keep held little in the means of populus, less than a hundred servants and around two hundred guards, as well as a few lesser nobles who served in ranks such as Master at Arms or Castilian. They would not hold off long should the fleet sail in, coming to the aid of the thousand men marching towards them. Perhaps they would play the Rains of Castamere and threaten to put everyone to the sword.

She glanced to Ser Barristan, his white armor gleaning in the soft candle light. He seems uneasy as well, sensing the taste of blood on the wind. Ser Darry is at the base of the steps to the tower, guarding the lone entrance. "My Queen, the hour is late." The bold knight gently reminds, "Perhaps it is time to escort you to your chambers?"

Rhaella nods, and goes to open her mouth the respond, only to hear a commotion outside the door. She pales, the Maesters estimated the soldiers to arrive come morning, not now, not tonight. Muffled shouts can be heard outside the door, and Ser Barristan draws his sword and instructs her to get back.

"I do not serve the King of Lannister!" A voice snarled, "But Queen Diana of house Targaryen, Returner of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Brightheart!" The rumors were true then, Diana fulfilled the prophecy.

"Open the door." Rhaella commanded, and when her kingsguard did not move to reply she pinned him with a fierce glare, "Open the door." The wood spun open, revealing Tywin Surefoot with a box in one hand and a drawn sword in the other. Ser Darry had his drawn as well and was glaring daggers at the man.

Brown eyes looked at her then, and he bent the knee before her. "I apologise my lady, my sailor friend had to maneuver through the storm undetected by our ship friends." He slid back the lid to the small oak box, revealing a scroll with an unbroken seal, a golden lion on a black field. Beneath the parchment was something she had not seen in many years, her crown as a princess.

"How did you break through the blockade?" Rhaella asked suspiciously.

"There is a sailor named Davos, he slipped onions through to Storm's End with the help of the Redwyne fleet, when he returned to King's Landing to give report, Queen Diana requested a private meeting with him, promising him lands and a knighthood in exchange for his services." Surefoot replied, "It is all in the letter, or so I have been told."

She broke the seal deftly, her eyes watering,

 _Rhaella,_

 _I am so sorry, dear sister. Viserys was a sweet boy, a summer child taken too soon. Aerys burned for it, sweet sister, I promise you, he will never hurt either of us again. I feel there is so much to apologize for, and not enough time or parchment to express it all. You have always done your duty, Rhaella, but you have never been happy doing so._

 _I want to give you that chance, take your youngest child and run, Davos shall take you wherever you wish to go, and the Iron Bank has been instructed to have funds waiting for you under the name Sarella Everstar, enough for you to buy a large home of your own and live a happy life._

 _Take this new start, sweet sister. I beg of you, for as much as I am Targaryen, I am Lannister. And a Lannister always pays their debts, and there is no greater one owed than the one I owe to you. I have taken the life mother and father wanted for you, and give you one to choose yourself instead._

 _Your sister always,_

 _Diana_

When he saw that she was done reading, Surefoot stared uneasily at her. "It is almost dawn, and the red cloaks shall arrive soon." He was ensuring she wished to leave, he knew.

The four stood around the painted table then, as Rhaella stared down at the image of the kingdoms she would never again step foot in, the ones she was meant to rule. Her palm pressed against her swollen belly, what was the point of being queen if it meant giving up the lives of her children? "I will go." She turned then to her two loyal kingsguard, "I will not ask you to join me in exile."

"I would follow you into the arms of the Stranger, my Queen." Selmy responded resolutely, and Ser Jonothor nodded as well. The door swung open once more, and Ser Amory Lorch appeared. The manticore of his armor seemed to hiss at her as he drew his sword with a dark grin, two faceless men in Lannister armor beside him.

"I wonder if they shall call me a dragonslayer for this," The man cowed with a laugh, and swung at Barristan as he reached for his sword. Tywin Surefoot, having his previously drawn, parried from beside the knight. The two slashed and parried, and soon the echo of their swords was followed by the warning bells of the Lannister soldiers, it seemed as though Lorch simply led the charge a touch earlier than everyone else.

"Get the Queen to safety!" Ser Jonothor growled, and lunged into the fray. He distracted the two guards as Tywin held of Amory, yet fighting two men against one in an enclosed space was wearing down on him. The Darry knight howled as a blade embedded into his back, the soldier had run him through while he focused on the other, there was no honor in such a kill. Tywin Surefoot sliced the man from his neck and Rhaella suppressed the urge to vomit at the jagged cut. The silver sword shined in the light, it was a strong enough blade to take the head clear off the man, but it was not valyrian steel, so the wound was not a clean break.

Barristan drew a sword of his own, and he and Tywin Surefoot finished the Lorch knight off. Rhaella could feel her hands shaking, but all she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears. "My lady, the Lannister knights will hunt us now, they know where we are." Tywin Surefoot spoke, "Lorch is Lord Tywin's creature, only he would order the killing of a pregnant woman."

Rhaella scoffed then, "He has destroyed houses, root and stem, how is my child any different?" _We are not blood, and I do not warm his bed._ She thought to herself darkly.

Her eyes wandered to the open balcony then, how easy it would be to jump as Queen Helaena did when her children were taken from her, to spare her unborn child the horrors of being slaughtered at the hands of a lion. Tywin Surefoot followed her longing stare, and saw the open balcony, no rails to protect anyone who might wander too close to the edge. His eyes sparked suddenly, then. "Write a suicide note."

Rhaella startled, and Ser Barristan raised his sword at the man. "One of these guards shall surely sink with his heavy armor, but if anyone close to the tower simply sees a body flying past them, and comes to the tower to see a suicide note in your own hand…" Tywin trailed off, and the remaining kings guard lowered his blade.

"It will appear as though she killed herself when they were breaking in, and gave up." Barristan replied, "My queen, if you write something about how Ser Darry fights outside the door, it will appear as though they came in and were killed as they ended his life."

"No one looks for a dead woman." Surefoot piped back, and Rhaella nodded.

 _Ser Jonothor was loyal to the end, I can hear them fighting just outside the door. Seven forgive me, the sea is calling, and I swear I hear father's voice…_

She stared at the parchment before her, and took off the crown that marked her as a queen, and placed it next to the paper. The men lifted one of the bodies up and draped it in a bright colored sheet from the linen closet outside the room, so that the blur falling would seem as though it were a woman in a dress, not a man in armor. They heaved the corpse over the edge, and as it fell into the sea, she tossed the crown she wore as a girl into the sea. Rhaella Targaryen was dead.

"Let's go." She turned to leave the room then, and was surprised to see Tywin Surefoot lead them to a hidden passageway, filled with rats and dust. It led them to the dragonmount, where a tiny ship waited for them, it seemed more fit for smuggling than carrying passengers, but she did not complain.

With only the dress on her back and the gold supposedly on the ship for her to use, the former Queen ordered the sailors to head to the free cities, which ever held the easiest course.

A/N:

Eyyyy, so I didn't want to kill Rhaella, but she needed to be dead, so I faked it haha. Remember Alyssa Velaryon, Diana's handmaiden who married into house Brax? Her brother is Lord of Driftmark, who have a decent navy, so they were mentioned here.

Next chapter is Tywin's POV, in which everyone reacts to Rhaella's 'death,' and the soldiers march to lift the siege of Storm's End.


	63. Chapter 63

A/N:

Warning: Tywin is an ass, and Diana is grieving. This starts off kind of dark

Tywin was rather displeased with Amory Lorch, the Septons always said to never speak ill of the dead, but the dead man did not even die correctly. He could have at least left Queen Rhaella's corpse in his wake, a suicide was a sloppy thing. Sure, it washed the blood from his cloak, but he still had to deal with the aftermath. He had ordered a pregnant peasant whore to be done away with, happy to find a woman of similar build that would not be missed too terribly. The corpse had been cleansed down to the bones, wrapped in a large Lannister cloak, and taken with the men that sailed from Dragonstone back into Blackwater Bay, eager for war after whetting their appetite with the blood of loyalist servants.

He had thought to hang the Darry knight next to his fallen brothers from where they hung in full armor, but knew that without their beloved relative living, the house Jonothor hailed from would be more likely to bend the knee if he returned the man's bone to his ancestral keep.

Tywin had thought things were falling into place quite nicely, until the unholy screech filled the air, seeming to echo from two directions at once. It was a broken wail of mourning, the kind he had not heard in many years, when another dragon shuffled off the mortal coil. The Lannister king grimaced, he had ordered that he would be the one to tell the Queen of her sister's passing.

He thanked the Seven that he was already on his way to his wife, for the doors to her chambers rattled with the force of them slamming shut behind the handmaidens sent with food for the Queen to break her fast. They were wide eyed and pale as ghosts, and he glowered at them, staring them down as they scurried past with meek nods and mumbles of 'your grace.' Tywin pushed the doors open, and was greeted with the sight of his wife standing on the railing of her balcony, staring down at the swirl of Blackwater bay. Her feet were bare, balancing nimbly on such a thin footing, and were she to fall, it would land her thirty feet below. "Diana!" He snarled, half panic half rage. Her short stock of silver hair caught the light as she turned to face him, still balanced.

Her purple eyes had never seemed so dark, so venomous, not even when she looked upon the head of Ellyn Reyne upon a spike at Casterly Rock. "I wonder which direction she faced when she jumped." Her arm splayed out to the sea behind her, "Did she dive forward, eager for what was to come? Or perhaps she simply leaned back into it, right into the Stranger's arms." Tears streaked down her face, blending with the smell of salt from the sea.

"Get down, Diana." His cold voice surprised him slightly, he felt more as if he were commanding a naughty child than his grief stricken wife, and she seemed to catch on to it as well.

Her silver dress billowed around her, and she glared at him. "The servants whisper that it was Amory Lorch that saw her kill herself, right before Ser Jonothor stabbed him in the stomach. Others say he pushed her, but then again, why would a woman pushed write of the dead calling?"

They say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and Westeros holds its breath. Yet with Diana, he felt he was rolling the dice, would he see madness or greatness in her today? Her haunted voice made him cringe, he knew her dreams had truths hidden in them, too many had come to pass to allow him to disbelieve, but he also knew that her dreams seemed to control her fate as much as she controlled herself. She had fallen apart for nearly a month when her grandfather passed away, and she had dreamed of him burning the night before a raven reached them with news.

"Do the dead call often?" He asked her dryly, curious to see if his assumption was correct. Her sister's final words would stick with her for the rest of her days, he knew, but he could not help but wonder if she had an inkling of what was to come before it happened.

Diana stomped her foot as a child would, her bare feet softly thudding against the thin bit of stone she stood upon, and he was tempted to grab her like a child and force her down. "The dead scream, Tywin!" Her breaths were pants, her chest rising and falling with each huff. "There is so much blood on my hands, the blood of my own family!"

"Dragons have danced and killed for generations." Tywin stated flippantly, taking another step towards her, "Soon, there will be no others to challenge us, peace will come, I promise."

His words were meant to soothe her, but rage filled her instead. "A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing." Her words seemed strange on her tongue, as if they were not her own words. He moved to respond, but the doors to the Queen's chambers opened without a knock, or if there was one he never heard it.

Gold cloaks shook in their armor, "Your grace! The dragon, it's-" Realization dawned on him then, the screech of grief did not echo, it came from two different points. A shadow loomed over them, blocking most of the sun from the sky. Brightfyre was hatched less than six moons ago, yet was already the size of the largest war horse he had ever owned. Red scales glinted in the light as he circled, slowly descending to latch his claws down on the marbled stone next to his mother.

Diana made eye contact with the dragon, and seemed to speak without words. Everyone was still, no man made sound could be heard, only the rustle of the ocean and the steady thrum of the dragon's gulping breaths. She did not even look at him, "I want to leave for Dragonstone, Daemon and his wife may rule in our stead until you return from Storm's End." Diana had not been to her ancestral seat in years, but she suddenly missed it. Tywin remembered the stories she would tell her children, of how she would push and throttle on every stone on the island, looking for secret passageways. Her knowing smile when the children would ask if she ever found any was the only answer he needed.

She had spent months attempting to erase every image of dragons from the Red Keep, commissioning lion motifs at every turn, and she wished to go to the dragonmount now? "Diana, you are Queen, you must rule while I am away at war." His voice was neutral, but held a hard edge to it.

The gold cloaks watched the exchange in silence, gawking at the beast before them. Diana cooed at the dragon and ran her hands along his scales, and he noticed for the first time the hints of silver within the red scales of Brightfyre. Her violet eyes loomed at him, "Then I want my sister's bones brought here, and laid to rest within the Sept of Baelor, with our ancestors."

His jaw clenched, would she ask for a grand procession when Rhaegar's corpse joined the body count? Rhaella was her sister, but to him she was a powerful piece on the board, destroy the Queen and win the game. "The High Septon will not approve, the Seven Pointed Star frowns upon suicide."

A roar filled the open space then that sent the guards scurrying out of the room as if it were a dismissal. Brightfyre breathed in again, as if to repeat the rage he already bellowed, when Diana spoke instead. "I will burn the Septon alive before anyone denies my sister the right to enter the Seventh Heaven." Grief was a twisted thing, and it burned through his wife like wildfire.

"A private ceremony then." Tywin conceded, he had decided the moment he ordered the whore's death to not tell his wife there was no body to be found. Better to let her use a stranger's bones as a proxy than allow her to grieve for a watery grave.

He fixed his stare at the beast then, a seed of fear blooming in him then. "He is growing too large to be kept in the Red Keep, I shall order the renovations of the dragon pit." Tywin did not like the way the beast flew to his wife's side with such ease when he was not obedient enough to listen should his presence cause strife. He would rather simply chain the thing and be done with it, but his wife was as protective of the dragon as she was her own children.

Diana only nodded at him then, and he held his hand out to her. Her warm skin met his and she finally dismounted from her perch atop the balcony. "Construction may begin once Jaime is wedded and bedded to the Stark girl, and Elia Martell is a Stark herself." He had to admit, his son was rather clever on that end. He was not able to secure a Lannister marriage with the Martells, but Rickard Stark preened at the idea of having both his daughter and good daughter be princesses, while two of his sons were to be lords in their own rights. Perhaps he could arrange for his cousin Johanna's heir to be wed to a Reach bride, connecting the major players in the game to the throne through blood. The Lannister legacy would spread to all seven kingdoms, Tywin would ensure it.

A/N:

So Tywin is about to head out to Storm's End, bring the Reach to heel, and then take the army towards the Dornish/Stormlands border, where Jaime fights Rhaegar.

I'd guess this fic has less than 10 chapters left, although I do have a little plot bunny for a next gen fic, which would start when ASoIaF did in canon, only with the progeny born to the couples in this story. So Brandon/Cat's kids, Ned/Elia's, Aemon and Visenya, and so on.


	64. Chapter 64

Steffon Baratheon curled his lip at the fat flower, Mace Tyrell. The man wore golden armour that was so heavily etched with roses, one might mistake him for a bush. For months, he endured the Reachman's mocking of how the dragon would fly down soon enough, raining fire and blood. He was left in the dark on most news, ravens being shot down as soon as they flew close enough to the castle. Only a small ship bearing liver and onions and a single boat of Redwyne men had made it through the siege to deliver supplies or news, and the Stormlord did all he could to keep morale up.

Robert had already been in the Vale when war broke out in honest, and Steffon had just begun to assemble the Stormlord's in the Baratheon seat when the Reach marched into their lands. He cursed the fat flower for thinking himself a warrior, when Mace had sat and drank wine while watching Storm's End starve. Stannis was already gaunt, and Steffon had learned that his second son was giving part of his rations to his toddler brother, Renly. Steffon knew that the castle was not prepared for a siege of this magnitude, his lady wife had allowed the neighboring smallfolk to take refuge in Storm's End, but it had tripled the amount of mouths to feed.

Hope fell from his eyes as soon as it sprung at the sight of ships on the horizon, guided by a single flag ship, large and looming. A snarling, three headed dragon decorated the bow, and with trepidation, Steffon recognised the ship, _Queen Rhaella's Grace_. The Targaryen's had come to the flower's aid after all.

From atop the battlements of Storm's End, Steffon cursed to himself as the few Redwyne ships at sea seemed to flee from the twenty ships weaving into Shipbreaker Bay. Mace Tyrell rode out with a few of his men, as well as servants carrying wine and hearty foods. The Baratheon Lord felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the food he had been without, and turned to his soldiers, who looked ready to drop their swords and raise the white flag. "Men, we are Stormlanders! We are the storm, and we will not surrender our lands to a mad king!" From his position above the vast keep where the men stood guard, he saw the resolve, the _fury_ that his house was known for. He drew his sword from the sheath it rested in, raising it into the light before turning to his second son, Stannis. "Go to your mother and brother, you are their last line of defense. If the lord falls, then they will slaughter the men that guard the lady's door." With a grim nod, the young lord left his father.

The thunder of hooves filled the air, men riding towards the gate. Steffon walked the perimeter, where archers knocked their arrows. When the men stopped at the gate, the Stag loomed over the perch he hid to face his enemies.

"Open the gate, Lord Baratheon." On a large black war horse with a golden saddle, sat Tywin Lannister with a crown of gold atop his head. "My Queen would be rather disappointed if I were forced to break down the doors of her dear cousin." Behind him were servants carrying crates of supplies, and casks of wine.

"Open the gates to your king!" Steffon shouted, and nearly fainted from relief and exhaustion.

/*/*/*/*/

Jaime stared impatiently as the ships appeared on the horizon, banners of black, red and gold appearing. As much as his father curled his lip at the dragon etchings on the royal fleet, _Queen Rhaella's Grace_ was a flagship that rivaled that of the Lannister's own prize, _Brightroar._ He had waited months for this moment. Months of bickering and planning, all for this day. With the Tyrell's brought to heel, King Tywin turned his ships towards Dorne. The Fall of the Fat Flower, they called it.

Jaime had grown up hearing the stories of his father's cruelty, the rains of Castamere played often at the Rock, and whispers of his mother's madness circulated now and again. His mind still haunts him with the image of Gregor Clegane's hands burning, his lady mother's blank, cold stare as she pinned the boy with her own hands, yet her flesh never burned. Perhaps that was when he should have realized what his family was capable of, yet he did not truly comprehend it until the Targaryen ship docked with Lannister men. The three snarling dragon heads that were once carved onto the mouth of the ship had been removed, the bloodied heads of Mace Tyrell, and two faces decayed beyond recognition sat upon the dragon's stump necks, a mockery of the sigil. As the ship loomed closer, Jaime guessed the other two heads were that of Lords Tarly and Fossoway, the generals under the Fat Flower.

The time had finally come, his father refused to allow him to ride in search of Lyanna. ' _We do not know where she is, or if she is even alive. Would ride through the seven kingdoms in search of a dead girl?'_ The king was only concerned with bringing the seven kingdoms together under a Lannister rule, but all the crown prince wanted was his wolf bride.

Jaime refused to wed anyone other than Lyanna, but without means to rally the North himself, he was left without men. He had written to Brandon time and time again, but the Stark heir had not replied. Perhaps he was with his injured father and brother, or gaining glory like Robert had in the Battle of the Bells. Tywin had sent his son with Riverlanders under the command of Brynden Tully, not Jaime himself. He split the forces of the Trident between the two Tully brothers, sending Hoster by land.

Slowly, the ships carrying the men of the North, Stormlands, West and parts of the Vale descended. The Riverlands were marching by foot, engaging in skirmishes with fleeing loyalists. Why would they flee towards Dorne, why not turn towards Highgarden?

The glint in his father's crown and the glow of his crimson armor gave Tywin Lannister away from his spot atop the flagship, and Jaime noticed Jon Arryn, Brandon Stark and Steffon Baratheon among them.

When they docked the Prince of Dorne bowed the smallest amount possible without being rude, and Jaime shook hands with his father. The king curled his lip the smallest bit at the small circlet that served as Jaime's current crown. "King Tywin Lannister." Doran greeted, "Welcome to Dorne."

The Lannister king smiled tightly at the prince, "Thank you, Prince Doran. I look forward to welcoming you to King's Landing, and accepting your oath of fealty."

"One can easily be given now." Doran replied, "I represent Dorne, and you the Iron Throne."

"Queen Diana was hoping that you would be there when Ned Stark weds your sister, the Princess Elia. They are to be wed before the Heart's Tree as well as the Sept." Tywin replied, and Jaime quirked a brow at that. Would that be something Lyanna would desire? She kept the Old Gods, he knew.

"Perhaps it is Queen Diana Targaryen we should be swearing our fealty to." Oberyn goded, "She is the Dragon Queen after all." His angered smile set Jaime's teeth on edge, the Red Viper loved to push other people's buttons.

"My Queen and wife has been a Lannister since she was wed at sixteen namedays," Tywin ground out, "A shame no lord is willing to give his daughter to a second son, with a sister set to inherit before him."

The air seemed electric then, and glances were thrown to various members of the scene. Brandon Stark seemed at a loss of what to do, while Jon Arryn just looked uncomfortable. "Father, you have had a long and bloody journey, surely you would wish to rest. Allow me to show you where you may rest and we may speak." Jaime cut in then, and Doran nodded his assent before Oberyn had a chance to use his sharp tongue.

The Lannister king and prince walked together into the Dornish seat, silent as the grave. Once they were away from the crowd, having been dispersed to each go to their own chambers, Jaime led his father to a small hall prepared with wine and meats. The prince poured each of them a glass of wine before pinning his father with a stare. "The Dornish have been brought into the fold, I have done my duty. I ride tomorrow to search for Lyanna."

Tywin quirked a knowing smile that had Jaime gritting his teeth. "No you are not. We shall rest here for two days, and then march to the border of Dorne and the Stormlands, where Rhaegar is propping up what is left of the loyalists."

"I need to go to Lyanna!" Jaime shouted, "When mother was kept in King's Landing, you marched there within the month! It has been nearly eight moons!"

The Lannister king only shrugged, and took a sip of his wine. "If you can tell me where she is, I shall send you with a hundred men to rescue the maiden."

Jaime growled then, and began to pace, taking a large gulp of his own glass of wine. Dornish Red was growing on him, slowly but surely. "You speak as if you know where she is." The heir stopped pacing then, realization dawning on him, he repeated, "You know where she is!"

Tywin smiled coldly, "All of your mother's rage, but none of your father's cunning. Who is left that is loyal to Rhaegar?" Green eyes gleamed with dark truth, his father was goading at him.

"A few minor houses, now that the Tyrell's influence on the Reach has been snuffed out." Jaime replied after a moment of thought.

"Not houses, which men are loyal to the dragon prince?" Tywin tried again, his golden crown catching the light. The thing was ostentatious, with a roaring lion, and Jaime felt his simple circlet crown was inept in comparison.

Jaime furrowed his brow at his father's question, "The only Kingsguard left alive are Arthur Dayne and Lewyn Martell."

"And what do they share in common, other than their white cloaks?" Tywin proceeded, waving his hand in an onward motion.

Jaime was confused for a moment, Dayne was years older than the prince turned Kingsguard...but they shared Rhoynar blood. "They are both Dornish!"

"The Rhoynar resisted the dragon for years, they remained a princely house because they joined to the Iron Throne through marriage, and have killed dragons before." Tywin reminded his son, "And now the fallen troops in the Stormlands run to lick their wounds not on their own soil, but on the border between Baratheon and Martell lands, why would that be?"

"Because the Dornish hold no love to the Iron Throne, especially compared to their prince and Sword of the Morning." Jaime replied. Rage filled him then, the Dornish protected their own, and even whispers of men in white armor were not shouts as they should have been.

"Rhaegar is no doubt protecting his prisoner as if she were his queen." Tywin commented, "The Kingsguard would not stray too far from either of them."

Jaime stared his father down, "So you would have me slay the dragon and rescue the maiden?" Green eyes met green, "Or just kill the last man who stands in the way of the crown you always wanted."

Tywin chuckled, "Would you prefer to give the glory to Brandon Stark? He is quite eager to kill the man who took his sister."

"I want Lyanna!" Jaime snarled.

"And you will never have her as long as Rhaegar lives." Tywin replied evenly, "March with us towards Nightsong, and kill the man who dared to take what is yours."

"And then?" Jaime asked, only for his father to give him an odd smile.

"And then you may marry your wolf girl, should she still be alive." The king replied, "Spies and scouts are scouring the lands, the Dornish may love their own, but when drinks flow, lips are loose."

A/N:

So the Reach is down, Tywin takes no prisoners. I'm thinking of aging up Garlan Tyrell a bit and wedding him to Alysanne, because they'd be cute together.

As to why Jaime did not go rushing to save Lyanna, he had no clue where she was! Tywin has spies everywhere, so next Jaime scene will be him and Rhaegar battling it out before he goes to Lyanna.

Next chapter: Varys proves he is loyal to the Realm.


	65. Chapter 65

Diana had not mourned so fully since her grandfather had passed. Yet this time there was no husband to comfort her, and she did not want him to. Tywin had snuffed the life of her sister with a single command, and left to wage war within a week of the news. Sandor Clegane had become her shadow, a kingsguard in all but name on her husband's orders. In dresses of black, the Queen held a solemn court.

Diana had laid what was once her sister's bones to rest with the rest of her family, an urn of ashes to be placed with the long royal line. With the week of customary grieving done, the Queen was expected to make an appearance, yet instead Diana hid for another week. It was Alysanne who insisted she hold court, lest the rumor mill continue. Sitting atop the Iron Throne, the courtiers looked like mice in a field of many colors. Alliances were forged in times like these, and it seemed every house in Westeros had sent their unwed daughters to be presented to the Dragon Queen, a woman known to make strong marriage matches. With sigils embroidered on dresses or color coded into the silks, the people below her seemed more like a history lesson than a group of nobles.

In a silver gown with a hooded man guiding the way along her hem, Alyssa Banefort, formerly of house Velaryon, was a sight for sore eyes. Her daughter followed in her footsteps, sharing her mother's coloring of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. They both curtsied before the throne, and Diana smiled warmly. "Lady Banefort, it has been too long."

"Indeed it has, your grace." They shared mischievous smiles, as old friends are wont to do. "May I present my daughter, the Lady Talla Banefort."

Diana smiled at the awestruck girl, she must have been at least fourteen namedays now. "This lovely maiden cannot be the squealing babe that once claimed my ruby earring as her own personal toy?"

Talla blushed scarlet and spoke up then, "My lady mother saved the earring, your grace, as a keepsake. She will surely return it if you wish." Her blunt words had Diana laughing, the first time in a long while, and at the ringing sound of their queen's giggle was heard, others echoed.

"That will not be necessary, Lady Talla." Diana replied, a gracious smile upon her lips. "You have raised a wonderful daughter, Lady Alyssa. I would honor her with a position in my household."

The Banefort Lady smiled graciously, "You honor house Banefort, your grace. I am sure my daughter will enjoy her time in the capital as much as I did as a girl."

Diana grinned at her long time friend. It was a shame Daemon had wed Lynda Whent, Talla was a bright girl, and the queen thought it a nice image of her and her childhood friend sharing grandchildren.

At the mention of an appointment within the royal household, the court had broke out into whispers. There was no official announcement of any positions within the Red Keep before this moment, leaving rumors to fly on who would occupy which seat on the Small Council.

With the Banefort ladies curtsying, they walked to the area that stood other Western ladies, as a young woman in orange silk walked forward. Elia Martell had grown since the last Diana saw her, a frail thing that would be crushed by the weight of a crown. The Dornish maiden still looked sickly, but her health seemed to have steadied itself. She bowed deeply, and with a strong Dornish accent pronounced, "Queen Diana."

Next to her was Ashara Dayne, glaring daggers at the air rather than look towards the queen upon the Iron Throne. Diana quirked an eyebrow at the maiden, yet said nothing of it. "Princess Elia Martell, and Lady Ashara Dayne." Diana mimicked, "Welcome back to court, although I trust you will find it different than you last saw it."

"There are no dragon skulls." Ashara murmured, noticing the airier room. Elia nodded at her friend, noticing the change as well.

"We do not sit with the bodies of our ancestors next to us, so I would not condemn my Brightfyre to the same fate." Diana replied, "Besides, Dragonbone is a rare thing."

The queen turned to her daughter then, "Princess Alysanne will show you to your chambers, Princess Elia. Your betrothed, Lord Eddard Stark, is in the Maester's tower with his Lord Father, should you wish to see him." Diana stood with a flourish of dread black silks, her golden crown glinting in the light as she descended the Iron Throne. "Court is adjourned for the day, should anyone need a private audience, speak to the Royal Steward, Ser Derion Dondarrion." Whispers broke out once more, yet another appointment. Ser Derion was the brother to the acting lord, Ser Beric, and had been sent to King's Landing with two letters, both from King Tywin, one a royal command to be shared, ordering his appointment, and the other was a personal one for her.

He wrote of how the Reachmen had greeted them at the dock of Shipbreaker Bay with open arms, mistaking the Targaryen ships for the dragons themselves. The remaining forces that were able and willing to continue fighting a lost battle fled towards the Dornish Mountains, near where Rhaegar was rumored to be hiding away, amidst the towers and keeps that fell into disuse over the years of civil wars within the area. Tywin assured the loyalty of the Stormland house that fell closest to the border with the incentive of a powerful position in the royal house, one that dueled as taking a hostage should things go wrong.

Diana made her way to the small Sept within the Red Keep, one used by her ancestor, Baelor the Blessed, before he built the Great Sept. The statues of the Seven were carved from fine, cool marble, and placed in a semicircle in the small room. Most did not even know the room was there, just off the former royal quarters behind a plain looking door with a heavy lock. As she prayed before the Mother to bless and watch over her children, the single entrance to the small Sept opened, spooking the Queen. Diana was so sure she was the only one to have a key to this space, it was sacred to her.

"Your grace." A simpering voice greeted, and Diana almost struck the Eunuch before her. She rose to her feet, glaring at the man before her. Varys had not made an appearance since she hatched her dragon, and both she and Tywin had assumed he had fled. Yet there he was, blocking the only door with a small smile. From his sleeve, he pulled forth a letter with no seal, "One of my little birds intercepted this, a good thing considering Maester Pycelle has a love of reading other's letters." Pycelle had always been as much Tywin's creature as hers, but she had no doubt he would betray her to help the Lannister king, yet there were few things that Diana hid from her husband.

Diana eyed the Spider warily, but took the offered parchment and cracked the wax. The regal handwriting had her palms sweating.

 _Di,_

 _Thank you._

 _-Sarella_

It was short, stupidly simple, but it gave her such hope. As children, Rhaella and Diana loved to play make believe, imagining their own fantastic tales. Their favorite was playing as foreign ladies, enraptured with the wild colors and fashioned produced in the free cities. Rhaella would be Sarella Everstar from Pentos and Diana pretended to be Lilyana Brightmoon from Essos, and they would wrap themselves in bright silks and speak with butchered thick accents. It was the surefire way that Rhaella would accept the letter she sent with Tywin Surefoot as authentic, as well as the crown of Rhaella's princess days.

Varys waited for her to finish gaping at the few words written before speaking, "It was quite clever, forging a suicide note and smuggling Queen Rhaella through the Dragonmont, very few people know of the secret passages within the Targaryen keeps."

Diana glared at the Spider, "Why would you show me this? Surely you have alerted the king of the news of my sister's living state."

"To secure my position on the small council." Varys simpered, "I serve the realm, your grace. Not any king or queen."

"And how does this serve the realm?" Diana shot back, her hands shaking slightly. It was not like she could kill him, Varys was too clever to be the sole holder of such information.

"The Lady Sarella and her husband, Lord Jon Everstar recently arrived in Pentos, with their newborn daughter, Dany." Varys informed her, "They say the lady as hair as purple as her eyes, while their daughter inherited her father's blond hair."

Husband? Diana grit her teeth, "And who is this Jon?" The Queen imagined her sister, with dyed lilac hair holding a newborn girl, yet the child's image only reflected how Alysanne had looked as a babe, not with blond hair.

"A rather bold fellow." Varys replied secretly, "My little birds whisper of how he sought out something that would color hair golden, but safe to use on skins as sensitive as a babe's. He claimed sensitive skin, yet he and the child share hair color now."

Ser Barristan! The knight thought to have fled in cowardice, or killed without a body to recover. "You never answered my question, Lord Varys, how do you serve the realm by keeping a secret such as this?"

The spider smiled then, "I do not condone the killing of babes in their mother's belly. Neither do you, Queen Diana, King Tywin however…" He shrugged, "The realm bleeds heavily enough with war, why prolong it with a death the world has already thought to have occurred? And besides, this knowledge surely proves my capability as Master of Whispers."

Ah, there it was. He was blackmailing her, dangling the life of her sister and newborn niece before her to keep his own power in place. "I will ensure you keep your title." Diana bit out.

"Thank you, your grace. I shall leave you to your prayer." Varys simpered, and left with a soft thud of the door closing behind him.

Diana knelt before the mother once more, a new prayer blooming in her heart, " _Mother of Mercy, please, please, watch over my sister. Let her be happy…"_

A/N:

So I figured if Tywin was in Dorne, Elia would have arrived in King's Landing, so there she is! Should there be enough requests, I'll do a scene with her and Ned. Meanwhile, Rhaella arrived in Pentos! I figured it would look a bit weird for a rich young woman with a baby to be unwed and with a guard, so they pretend to be married. I like the free cities because of how crazy their fashion is, so it is easier for Rhaella to disguise herself.

I also missed Alyssa Velaryon, so I brought her and her daughter into the fold a bit.

I'm debating if the next chapter should be Jaime fighting Rhaegar, or what is happening in Highgarden considering Mace got decapitated and his head placed on the bow of a ship.


	66. Author's Note

Hey guys, sorry this isn't a chapter update. I have two chapters written, and realized that the direction it was heading would lead to a sequel.

So I would like your opinion, in a review please state which you'd prefer:

-A sequel (which would focus on Lyanna's child/an OOC Jon Snow) featuring the White Walkers, dragons and prophesies galore

-A natural ending to the story once the war is done, and leave it finished to start a new story


	67. Author's Note Update

I am so humbled by the amount of responses for my previous author's note, I could legit cry.

So there was one vote more for a new story than for a sequel, which got me thinking...why not both?

Here's what I'm thinking:

For the sequel, it would include:

-Pretty much Jon Snow (slightly different personality based on upbringing) but with a different name

-Lyanna lives, cause I would love to see her and Diana going back and forth

-Next gen, around when the show starts (but with some canon characters changed to fit the pairings, ie Sansa is Brandon and Cat's child)

-Prince that was Promised battles the White Walkers

-More dragons!

For a new story:

I love the Targaryen Dynasty, and was thinking of maybe doing one of the following

-a slightly original character (the Valyrian bride brought by Steffon Baratheon lives and marries Rhaegar)

-Great!Viserys, in which the theory that when the gods flip a coin, it lands on greatness or madness, and the coin lands on great for Prince Viserys (he would probably wed Dany or go the dragon has three heads/king has two brides)

-A whole new set of OCs, playing the game of thrones (So each Lord would have personalities based on their house traits)

Please let me know what y'all think


	68. Chapter 68

Jaime stared at the ostentatious armor before him, his father had certainly spent a small fortune on it. Hard boiled leathers peaked out to provide extra protection over the golden chest plate, wrought with the burning lion of lannister upon a crimson field, his personal sigil as crown prince. There was not a speck of silver to be found on the golden armour, but the helm was what awe struck him most of all: golden leaflets curving into spikes, leaving his face bare, but his entire head protected in what appeared to be a lion's mane. A new sword had been forged as well, a golden lion devouring a silver dragon upon the pommel, a large ruby set at the very top of the hilt. His mother had always advised to keep the bards singing songs about the good the Lannisters have done, but he knew his father had taken it a step further. King Tywin had several bards and mummers in his household, whose sole job was to produce songs, plays and pieces that celebrated the might and legacy of house Lannister. Already, they sung of the Wolf Maiden and the Golden Lion, and of the Silver Prince that took from the lion's den.

There was little love for the Targaryens anywhere anymore, save perhaps for the Iron Islands. They had answered no letters from either side, or so his father informed him. The King had hard pressed the Spider for answers on that kingdom, but the Spider had merely shrugged and said they would most likely reave and rape the losing side.

The golden prince walked out of his tent with his armor freshly tied, and glanced over to his squire for the battle to come. Petyr Baelish was a scrawny thing, serving as an act of good faith for the Riverlands, but also to appease Brandon Stark, who had told Jaime of how the Baelish boy had attempted to duel him for Catelyn's hand, and the Stark heir nearly killed him for it. To avoid further tension, he was sent to squire for Jaime, perhaps die valiantly protecting the crown prince.

The battle was brewing, right upon where the remaining forces of Rhaegar's fallen loyalists camped on their way into the disputed lands in Dorne, right where the Dornish and the Storm Lander's had fought for generations over territory. The king had called upon the forces of the North, Riverlands, Dorne, West and the bits of the Reach and Vale that had bent the knee. They were waiting for a leader, for him to lead them.

Jaime put his helm on as Petyr approached with a bow and a secretive smile, no a grin. Now that he thought about it Jaime only ever saw him grin smugly at others. He wasted no time on the weasel faced man, walking forward to the group of horses waiting to be mounted. His horse was saddled and prepared, but the sight filled him with melancholy. It should have been Lyanna mounting the steed, not him. She was the owner of the horse now, not him. Yet, how could he explain to his father that he wanted a secondary horse?

So he simply mounted the steed and maneuvered forward, the sound of other horses following him echoing along as they went. Soon, the two armies were face to face, what little loyalists remained were battle haggard and few, outnumbered three fold by the army around them. Tywin marched forward then, on a steed of his own, large and inky black, "I will give you one more chance, bend the knee, or be slaughtered."

"It does not matter whose cunt you fuck, you are no dragon!" A voice in the small army called, and a few cheers of agreement rang out within. "We bend the knee to no one but the dragon!"

"It is a shame my wife's dragon did not feel hungry for traitor blood today." King Tywin mocked, golden armor shining as he drew his sword. He turned to Jaime, his son and heir who rode next to him, "Find Rhaegar, end him and secure the legacy of our house."

Jaime nodded, and with a kick of the king's foot, the horses rode forward and the battle began. He had hated the word green boy before that moment, yet in it he understood what it meant. There was blood everywhere, on his sword, on his armor, on every man he killed in the flurry of rage as he hacked toward the gleaming silver and white armors of the men before him, Rhaegar Targaryen and Arthur Dayne. They were hidden amongst the vanguard, hacking at any armed man that came towards them, and Jaime saw red. He ran forward and brought his sword down upon his cousin, only to be met with the silver prince's own sword.

He was as smug as Littlefinger, grinning at him as they parlayed with their weapons. Rubies glinted upon the chestplate he wore, Rhaegar surely spent as much gold on his armor as Jaime did. "I made that wolf girl howl," The dragon taunted, "Filled her with my seed, and fucked her as her belly swelled with my child."

Jaime saw red, he hacked and swayed with his sword, playing into the prince's taunts. Rhaegar's sword brushed Jaime's side, a shallow, stinging cut that sent him reeling from the sting. Rhaegar went to swing the final blow, when Jaime butted his face forward in a final desperate attempt to save his own life, piercing Rhaegar's face with the spikes of the lion's mane faceplate he wore. Blood seeped from the armor and onto his blade, and with a cool numbness, Jaime realized he had won, yet he had lost.

Rhaegar was dead, but at what cost? Months of Lyanna being raped and kept against her will, and for what, the chance for his parents to have glory, to take the throne? He would throw the throne away for Lyanna, as his great uncle had for Jenny of Oldstones. With their silver prince dead, the loyalist armies bent the knee, leaving an enraged Arthur Dayne to come barrelling towards Jaime, a slew of bodies in his wake.

The golden prince raised his sword and charged to meet the man, clashing steel with one another. But he was haggard from fighting for so long, and he was bleeding from his wound, while Ser Dayne was a seasoned warrior, used to battle. He was losing, and he knew it, the Lannister Prince had killed his Targaryen arch enemy only to be killed by the second hand man, oh how the gods must be laughing.

Arthur raised his sword, and for a moment the Lannister was expecting death. Jaime was not sure where Petyr Baelish came from, but the poorly armored man stabbed the Sword of the Morning in the back, in the kinks of his armor, killing him instantly and sending the man tumbling to the floor. It was dishonorable, but in the chaos of battle, who would live to tell the tale, when the grander one would surely spread faster than the truth?

The two men shared a look then, silently agreeing to never speak of this moment. As Petyr approached, Jaime nodded to him, "I shall have you knighted for this battle."

Littlefinger only grinned at him and replied, "Yes, your grace."

The remaining forces would be crushed soon, and with the kingdoms brought to heel, Jaime would be able to find his beloved Lyanna, and rescue her at last.

The battle was won, and Tywin had a sick sense of pride that the sharpened spikes of his son's armor had been put to good use. He had written to Varys before the battle, and had no doubt that the Spider's birds would sing where Lady Lyanna was being kept. Yet the letter held more riddles than anything, as if he had been expecting interception.

 _The wolf bears the lion's cub with Joy in Towers, where the night sings the darkest song. But the falling star has pierced the dragon queen's side, and she walks with the stranger now._

It was unsigned, and it unnerved him. ' _The falling star has pierced the dragon queen's side.'_ What did that mean? Was Diana in trouble? He wanted to sail back to King's Landing right then and there, but oaths of fealty were due to be sworn the following morning. He glowered at anyone who came near except his son, who carried a map with him. "We must find her father!"

It was of Dorne and the Stormlands, a rather detailed bit of parchment that showed every road and keep between the two lands. "If he was here, then she must be close!" Tywin stared at the map as he listen to his son speak, his green eyes staring down at the keeps along the border.

"Nightsong." He said simply, his finger landing upon the dot on the map before tracing over to a small, tower with the name _Joy_ written in brackets, as if hastily added as an attempt to update the map. "The tower of Joy. She's being hidden at the tower of Joy."

Jaime did not even finish listening to his father speak before he was out the door, heading to pack to rescue his betrothed from the last Kingsguard standing.

A/N:

Eyyy, there we go. So in the new story, it would follow cannon starting point, so no Diana/Tywin timeline, so Viserys would be alive if I choose to write great!Viserys. Also...What happened to Diana? Well...You don't find out next chapter either, not entirely.


	69. Chapter 69

Diana walked among the stone statues, grim long faces staring down at her. It was cold here, she could see her breath, and a longing for the fire of a hearth filled her. ' _I am a dragon, fire made flesh'_ She tried to tell herself, but a shiver racked her body nonetheless.

"The Starks bury their dead in a rather cold manner." A voice noted, wizened with age yet still playful in tone. "Targaryens live and die by fire, the Starks, by ice. A lovely song, do not think?"

"Bloodraven." Diana blurted, spinning from the sight of the ancient marble before her to stare at an ancestor of her own. "What is this?"

"A warning, to stop what is to come." He replied gravely, "Diana, you are selective with your sight, and it will make the realm bleed."

"Selective?" Diana asked, rage rising within her. "I do not see the future, like a mummer in Lys! I dream of puzzles, so forgive me for not understanding what they mean!"

"Yet you worked so hard towards making the vision of yourself on the throne a reality." The Bloodraven stated, stepping towards her. She flinched, and the statues seemed to laugh. "Fate is a fickle mistress, one who enjoys bedding Time."

Diana glowered at her ancestor, but the weight of the crown upon her head seemed so heavy in that moment. "Would you rather I shared her bed instead?" She japed half-heartedly, her breath fogging before her in the chill.

"I would have you use the visions to save lives." The man responded, "Look around you, is not obvious?"

A creaking sound filled the air, and the stone statues seemed to tower over her, looming with shadows. The face of the King who Knelt was upon one statue, that of Brandon the Builder next to him, and so the rows twisted and turned within the tombs of the Stark kings, hundreds of years worth of sovereignty, brought down with a single bend of the knee. A blast of icy air flew in then, and with a shake, the very walls that surrounded them began to shift. Roots and leaves flew about, creeping over the ground and sealing the crypts with their bark. Weirwood, she realized numbly. It was getting so cold, Diana began to shake. The Stark kings glared down at her, seeming to close ranks as the trees twisted their way inside.

With horror blooming in her chest, Diana watched the statues come to life, stepping from their pedestals to walk menacingly towards her, drawing the swords once carved into their sides as they approached her. "Brynden?" Diana asked, the informality of her fear drawing his attention.

"It has been many years since anyone has called me by the name my mother gave me." A sad humor colored his tone, and he walked towards her, his fingers grasping her arm. Flames lit from his touch, and the silk she wore melted away, revealing a dress of dragon scales with a lion's mane for the collar. "You have a bright heart, Diana, but the fire within you is an untempered flame."

She felt as if she were suffocating in that moment, surrounded by stone and roots. The air seemed to only grow colder, and a cracking sound made her jump. One by one, the roots that gathered froze over, wilting and breaking. The crypts opened then with a flurry of snow and ice, and the statues that Diana was sure were attempting to kill her made a protective circle before her. Slowly, the stone shifted, and the Starks of old were replaced with the ones she knew, Rickard, Brandon, Eddard, and others she was sure were of common blood with the men she knew.

"A wild burning flame is doomed to be extinguished." Brynden warned, "Only a flame tempered by the cold, can sing the song of ice and fire." A creature emerged from the opening of the frozen waste then, eyes like ice itself.

His body was malnourished and decayed, long wisps of snow white hair billowing around him with the flurry of the storm he brought with him. His fingers reached towards her then, and she flinched back. The statues lurched with a crunch and swung towards the creature before her. "The Corrupted Stark." The stones spoke in unison, harsh and unyielding, "The Night's King."

The ghost before her wrapped his fist around her throat, and ice shot through her. Every vein in her body seemed to freeze up, and suddenly the crypt was empty once more, the statues in their original place as if nothing had happened. Diana collapsed on the floor, shivering and wide-eyed with fear. Her shaking fingers felt her throat and the chill that remained where the creature touched her. A wrinkled hand grazed her head, and she flinched back before realizing who it was. "You must open your sight to more than what you wish to see, Diana. Or else you doom the world to a fate much darker than your current path."

"My current path is…" Her voice trailed off as she imagined being strangled to death by that...that thing.

"Fire and ice have long since waged war, one never truly defeating the other." The Bloodraven replied, "He and I have danced for many generations, yet fire cannot destroy ice and ice cannot extinguish fire."

"Then what am I to do?" She asked, "A dragon is fire made flesh." Her silver hair glinted in the light as he smiled knowingly at her.

"Just as a Stark is as icy as a direwolf north of the wall." Brynden informed, "And when ice and fire sing together, it is quite a song to be heard."

The whelping direwolf, a vision that helps her up at night for she could not understand what it meant. Lyanna had been taken nearly eight moons ago, and Rhaegar had plenty of time to get a child upon the maiden. "Lyanna is pregnant with Rhaegar's child."

"The three headed dragon is present in her womb, but not in that way." He replied cryptically, "The child is the product of ice and fire, three great houses giving way to a future king."

' _King's blood'_ That was what the voices whispered in her vision, but she did not understand why then. Maester Pycelle had grown used to her strange reading requests, yet even he had given her a wary glance as he imparted the book of spells using king's blood into her possession. Many whispered that Diana was a sorceress, how else would she ensnare a mighty lion into bed while hatching the very sigil of her house? The book of spells would only give proof to these rumors, so she borrowed it but for the night, disguised as a book on the Dance of Dragons.

Magic was most powerful with a blood sacrifice, especially that of a line of kings. Priestesses of R'hllor often claimed that king's blood was most potent through paternal lineage, though some argued that the offerings with nobility on both parent's lines made the blood most powerful. If the child in Lyanna's womb was her grandchild, he or she would possess the bloodlines of Lannister, Stark and Targaryen kings, a trifecta through both maternal and paternal lineage.

"Then why do I dream of a direwolf whelping in sand and blood?" Diana asked in exasperation, "Why can you not just tell me?"

"Because you must walk with the Stranger for me to enter your mind!" Brynden snapped, his hand motioning to her torso then. Diana looked down in fear and saw the red blooming from her side, "Listen to me, Diana, we are running out of time. The song of ice and fire is a night song, towering with joy and storming with grief."

She did not understand, and it had her shaking with fear, but there was no time. With heavy lids, she closed her eyes and fell backward, away from her ancestor and the cold future that could be.


	70. Chapter 70

A/N: The moment you've been waiting for! Lyanna POV, mentions what happened to her, so trigger warning

Lyanna cradled her babe close to chest, ignoring the kingsguard knight as he argued with the midwife who mixed herbs before the fire. He was a beautiful babe, born two weeks too early, small and docile. Her sweet little Jon, dark of hair but light of eye. Lewyn Martell had stared warily at the babe ever since he was born, but despite her weakness, she refused to let the child go.

Lina had appeared in the night, carrying a sealed scroll from the Spider himself, and when asked where her loyalties lay, the stout woman simply responded, "I've birthed just as many bastards as true born, my loyalty lies with the safety of both mother and child." Lyanna appreciated the blunt truth of the words, and when labor pains hit two days after the woman's arrival, the wolf lady was happy to have someone to help her deliver her child.

Lyanna felt as if she would not have survived, had the woman not appeared to help her during labor. Lina explained the baby had breached, and there was so much blood Lyanna thought she would surely be reunited with her mother before the night was out. The midwife worked tirelessly through the harsh labor, and as the stars hid behind the brightness of a bleeding star, her son was born. Lina said it was good luck, to be born beneath such a sight, prophetic almost. Childbed fever drained her body, and the midwife had been mixing strange herbs for her to drink every hour under the watchful eye of the former prince of Dorne. Of all the kingsguard, Lyanna trusted the Dornishman the most, and was relieved when Arthur Dayne insisted upon leaving her side to fight with Rhaegar.

Rhaegar, the name still made her chest feel painfully tight. The man had dragged her by the hair from her tent the night after she gave her maidenhead to her betrothed. Of all the beatings, the one after the silver prince discovered her to not be a maiden was the worst. He had howled and screamed at her as his fists landed on her body, screaming of how the prophecy must be fulfilled, that the dragon must have three heads.

It was Lewyn to pull him off of her then, hissing that no knight harmed women or children, no matter the circumstance. He served as a halfway protector after that moment, only stepping in when the beating got out of hand, yet even he did nothing as she screamed for help as Rhaegar took her against her will. He was so proud to have planted his seed in her, and Lyanna prayed that this child would take nothing after the dragon prince.

Strangely, she was never afraid she would not love the child in her womb. At night, she dreamed of herself beneath the godswood tree, a babe with Stark features upon her lap and the whisper of the Old gods upon the wind, there to protect her. Lyanna clung to that dream, that small sliver of hope that she would step foot before a weirwood tree once more, dedicating her child to the Old gods as her father had once dedicated her.

Lina stepped before her again, "You must regain your strength, my lady. The child will need to feed and there is not a wet nurse for many days." Her breasts felt heavy at the mention, but a slight fever still held her, even after two days of drinking herbs that left a bitter taste upon her tongue.

"But we are not days from anyone else." Lewyn quipped, staring out the opening within the lone tower at the blobs that would soon form into the image of riders drew closer. The tower of Joy had a tactical advantage that way, as the only stop between Nightsong and the Prince's Pass, the view of the single window in each direction allowed one to see riders at least a day before they arrived.

It was a small party, no more than a dozen men, and they carried no standard to decide if they were friend or foe, and with the radio silence within the tower, they had no way to know who was winning or losing the war.

Sipping the bitter herb mixture, Lyanna watched Ser Lewyn pace the tower floors in his full white armor, he was surely going to wear grooves into the stone at the rate he was going. "What is it you keep saying, Ser, you do not harm babes in Dorne?" Lina spoke up then, her weathered eyes staring at the Dornishman.

"We do not harm little children at their mother's breast." Lewyn snapped, "Unlike the West." It seemed to be a common trope, the wild and free Dornish sneering at the influential and opulent West. Lyanna was quickly growing tired of hearing it. Not that she would have to for much longer, as the riders would reach them within the hour.

The Stark woman focused on her babe instead of the men racing towards them, staring down at the large eyes before her, Jon had inherited the long Stark face, and thick dark hair, but his father's eyes and chin. She fed him at her breast and watched him suckle, she would raise a sword herself before anyone dared try and harm her babe.

Soon, the Martell knight drew his sword and walked down the winding steps to meet the riders quickly approaching. "Stay here" was all he said as he descended to meet the men who they were not sure were friend or foe.

Lyanna almost screamed when from her sickbed, she saw a rider leading the men atop a black steed larger than any other horse she had ever seen. It was Jaime, her Jaime. She lurched forward as if to call out to him, but Lina pressed her palm against her chest and pushed the new mother back down onto the bed. "You can barely stand, let alone make it down all those steps." The midwife clucked, yet stood vigil by the window watching the scene unfold before them.

Slowly, the figures drew nearer and details could be seen. In battleworn armor, the form of her brother and betrothed appeared, flanked by men with sigils emblazoned upon their chest that Lyanna could not make out quite yet. There were half a dozen men in total, yet the Dornishman stood tall against them. "Who goes there?" Lewyn Martell asked, the edge to his voice confirming Lyanna's suspicions.

"You stand before crown prince Jaime Lannister, the Dragonslayer, heir to the Iron Throne. He has come to collect his betrothed." An overtly snide voice replied, and Lyanna almost did not recognise Petyr Baelish, the man before her was much more battle worthy than the scrawny boy who tried to steal Catelyn Tully away from her brother. Although it was less than a year ago, it seemed like a lifetime.

"Dragonslayer?" Lewyn asked, an edge to his voice, "I did not think the lion cub capable of killing his own kin."

Brandon surely held the wolfs blood within him, for he went to charge forward in his friend's defense. "Is the Lady Lyanna alright?" Jaime's voice cut in then, "I'd kill that bastard Rhaegar a thousand times for what he did to her."

"Can't kill what is already dead by your own hand." Brandon japed, and his palm fell to the pommel of his sword, "Although I have no problem getting Dornish blood on my hands if you do not step aside and let me see my sister, Ser."

Lewyn glared at the men then, and raised his sword. "I've sworn an oath to protect the Lady Lyanna, and all those within the tower."

"So she is not alone." Petyr pointed out, "Who is there with her?" The kingsguard looked antsy, his grip on the sword tightening.

"Under the peace treaty negotiated between Dorne and the Iron Throne, I have the power to pardon you, Ser. Remove your white cloak and take back up the crown of Sunspear, your nephew would allow you to serve in the household guard, or he will give you lands and a keep, legitimise the bastard that grows in your mistress's belly and make you a proper lord." Jaime implored, and Lyanna bit her tongue as Lina unbolted the door and motioned for her to remain quiet.

Slowly, the old midwife made her way down the winding steps, and found an arrow aimed for her neck the moment she became visible. "Lady Lyanna wishes to see her brother." Hazel eyes wizened with age looked toward the Stark heir, "Surely the honorable Stark would pose no harm to his own flesh and blood."

Lewyn nodded tensely, "He goes up alone." Lyanna looked down the child sleeping soundly in her lap, and knew why he was worried.

"I would see my betrothed." Jaime bit out, and reached for a sword of his own.

Lina looked between the Stark and the Lannister and smiled at Lewyn, revealing a missing front tooth, "Allow them entrance, unarmed."

"The rest of the men stay here." Lewyn ordered, although it was becoming clear that the men could overpower him at the risk of losing a few of their own in the process.

Removing a small arsenal of knives and swords, Jaime and Brandon began to climb up the steps. A fragile cry echoed, and Jaime furrowed his brow, he knew that sound. Racing up the steps, Jaime burst into the lone round room of the tower of Joy, to see Lyanna as pale as the snow of her homeland, holding a crying child.

Bloodied sheets were crammed into a corner from the birthing bed, but all Jaime could stare at was his betrothed. Her thin arms snaked the child protectively, "His name is Jon." She made no move to claim the surname of the child, "He is my son."

Jaime moved forward slowly, and reached the side of her bed when Brandon burst into the room. Slowly, the cries slowed to whimpers, and the newborn babe opened his eyes to stare into Jaime's. Reflecting back at him, were all too familiar orbs, a glass bottle green the shade of Lannisters for generations. "We have a son." Jaime choked out, sitting beside her. "He's beautiful, Lya."


	71. Chapter 71

When Diana opened her eyes, the world around her seemed too bright to be real. Was this the seventh heaven the New Gods promised her? Or perhaps she rested with the gods of Old, if the stench of herbs was anything to go by. "Your grace, do not strain yourself, the fever took as much from you as the wound." Pycelle's voice seemed like it was under water, echoing and drowning.

Wounds? What wounds? The heat that stuffed its way into her chest seemed to press even further down upon her. What happened? She tried to remember, but the clearest memory she had was Brynden, and his dark words, ' _We can only speak when you walk with the Stranger'_ She had seen her ancestor's face but once, when a bit of the afterbirth had stuck within her when her youngest twins were born, and her husband had raged to the Maester that if she were to die, his corpse would join hers.

Diana attempted to sit up, but was met with a searing pain in her side, the same spot that ached in her dream and bloomed red. Her fingers found instead of a silk gown there was a bandage wrapped tight around her middle, covered in salve. Her mouth opened to speak, but was dryer than the sands of Dorne. Guilt flooded her as Alysanne rushed forward with a goblet of water for her to drink, guilt covering her daughter's face. Diana blinked owlishly at her for a moment, suddenly seeing her daughter in the riding clothes gifted to the girl for her last name day. Her eldest daughter was an equestrian, so much so that Diana had pondered how well Aly would do in the hills of the Rills in the North, but Tywin had scoffed at the idea of his daughter, his little princess, wed into a vassal house. Her husband said he played no favorites, but Aly had her father pinned with a single doe-eyed stare, and it seemed no man would be good enough for his little girl. Only the crown prince had come close, but now Alysanne was a princess in her own right, even if she was made a widow in the process.

Her silver haired daughter had not been herself since her parents took the throne. Diana knew that she loved Rhaegar as a husband and not a cousin, no matter the strain of their marriage. Still, Aerys had left a bad taste in everyone's mouth, and her daughter rarely strayed from the side of a Lannister guard. It seemed the girl only took off the mask of propriety when she rode atop her golden mare, Brightheart. Memories came back to Diana then, riding in the Kingswood with her daughter atop an unfamiliar horse, usually an easy feat from years of riding. Yet the horse seemed wild, angry even, and the steady trot of the horse became a thundering bolt that sent both rider and steed careening into the trees. Years atop trained mounts did not prepare the queen for that moment, as the horse barrelled through the wilderness and through her off her saddle. Pain erupted in her side before she lost consciousness.

How long had she been unconscious? Taking sips from the water offered by her daughter, Diana's mind raced. Her cloudy memory left her enraged, for she knew that the stable boy was not a servant she recognised, and her horse had been missing from the stable. ' _The houn- I mean, Ser Sandor is exercising the beast, your grace.'_ His unsteady tone had revealed that she had never met the boy before, as any servant in the royal household knew that the nickname garnered by her husband's sworn shield was sure to send the queen into a rage.

Diana had spent a small fortune bringing healers and ointments from the seven kingdoms to the Summer Isles in an attempt to heal the Clegane heir's wounds inflicted by his kin, but the scars remained, gnarled and twisted. "What happened?" Her voice was cracked and worn from disuse.

"You've been asleep for four days and three nights, mi'lady." Sandor spoke up then, making his presence known from where he stood at the door, looking even more haggard than she.

"Ser Sandor has not left your side, mother." Aly chirped, her smile strained.

"I ain't no Ser." He spat in reply, but there was a warmth in his eye when he looked upon her daughter. Diana hid a frown, she saw Sandor as one of her own children, but Tywin would burn the Iron Throne to the ground before wedding his daughter to the smallest vassal house in the West, descended from landed knights. She made a mental note to respond to the Evenstar's raven, regarding his previous proposals. The man had only a daughter for an heir, and rumour had it she was more man than lady, making marriage matches few and far between, especially after the war left so many houses with few spare heirs and ladies not wed for the sake of war time alliances.

"What happened?" Diana repeated, pinning Sandor with a stare. He seemed to huff then, like a dog about to break out into a run, but he stayed in place as he shifted on his feet.

"The stable boy gave you an improper horse." He replied, dancing around her question.

She scoffed at his response, but the large gulp of breath left her gasping in pain from the pull in her side. From beneath the salve and bandages, tiny specks of red blood leaked out. Diana glared down her daughter, then the grand maester, then landed back on the knight sworn to protect her in her own sworn shield's absence. "I will not ask again, what happened when I was a top that horse?" She cursed herself for not remembering, but if the gash on the back of her head was anything to go by, it was no wonder.

Diana was surprised when it was her daughter who responded, "We were riding in the King's wood, when something spooked your horse, and he took off into a leaping sprint! Sandor tried to follow you, mother, but the horse turned out to be Bolt, the product of a sand steed gifted to Lord Baratheon and one of his own fine Stormlands mounts, but he was not completely broken into riding yet. You both went barrelling through the woods and we couldn't catch up!" Bolt, the name clicked into place as the horse given as a gift for Daemon's wedding from Lord Baratheon, but the horse needed to be taught to be ridden before shipped to Harrenhal. Alysanne's eyes were wide, as if reliving the moment with every breath. At seventeen, she was a widow, yet she seemed more haunted now than when told of her husband's death. "And, I-I could see you, looking at that horse with such, such _rage-"_ Suddenly, it clicked into place, Alysanne knew the look that Diana sometimes wore, when the stage set was dire and cruelty is the only way to save yourself and those you care for, Alysanne saw her madness. Tywin liked to say the coin of greatness and madness flipped every day for Diana, not just when she was born. ' _You are as brilliant as you are mad, my lady, but there is a balance to it, like a sword and a shield.'_ His words echoed in her mind, and Diana ached for her husband's embrace.

She had been so angry when he left, she barely said goodbye to him as went off to war. And now that she knew her sister was alive, she felt as though part of her would now be lying to him. It was the plan all along, she knew, to allow her husband to think her the last Targaryen left save her great uncle at Castle Black, but that did not stop the pain from keeping in. One question haunted her the most, whose bones did she burn in the Sept in place of Rhaella's, did she want to know?

Diana blinked and realized that Alysanne had continued to speak while she was lost in thought, "We ended up near the godswood, Bolt just kept running and we kept riding after him, and you kept fighting the reins but the horse kept bucking and he threw you from his back." The words were broken by a sob, and Aly began to cry, "You flew as if you were a dragon, but when you landed…"

"You took a rather nasty wound to the back of the head, your grace. And your side was pierced with a piece of the weirwood roots." Grand maester Pycelle supplied, "A clean piercing, but weirwood sap can be rather messy and hard to clean from the wound."

"I rode up to find you sprawled beneath the face of the tree." The reluctance in Sandor's tone spoke to there being more than he was letting on, but Diana bit her tongue.

She thought back to her dream, and the almost too real quality of it, and tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "Have a servant fetch me something to write with and on, and food to break my fast." Diana ordered Pycelle, before turning to her daughter and her ward, "You both need to rest. I've slept for days, yet it seems the bedside vigil you kept did not allow for you to sleep as well."

When Pycelle shuffled out of her chambers, Diana watched her daughter mimic her own authoritarian gaze and use it on Sandor, silently ordering him to wait outside. When the two royals were alone in the room, Aly spoke. "Brightfyre tried to help you."

Diana furrowed her brow, "What?" Her dream of the blood raven was so clear, yet her actual memory of the event leading up to walking with the Stranger evaded her.

From the table beside her bed, Aly picked up an old tome written in High Valyrian, yellowed pages seeming to be ready to fall apart at the slightest tug. It was a Targaryen tradition to teach their mother tongue to their children, one Diana had been raised to speak and had taught to her children. Jaime's High Valyrian sounded like a dying horse, but his twin's was perfected over years of tutelage. Alysanne opened the book and turned to a page she had marked, and faded pictures of dragons and their riders were pictured. "Rhaegar gave this to me as a wedding present." Alysanne revealed with a hint of melancholy, "Brought from the remains of Valyria as a wedding present from King Aegon to his Queen Rhaenys. He thought we would bring the three headed dragon back, but we burned it to the ground."

"Aly, I-" Diana paused, unsure of what to say, how to comfort her daughter in a situation Diana put her into. "I'm sorry."

Alysanne smiled tightly at her mother, then pointed to a line in the ancient work before them. "Do you remember the stories Brandon used to tell us of Wargs and Greenseers?" Diana hid a grin at the memories of the children playing by the beaches of Casterly Rock by day and whispering ghost stories to one another at night. "Dragonriders are similar, they cannot enter the minds of their companions the way Wargs can, but there is a mental connection, if only on a primal level."

Diana is drawn back to when she thought her sister dead, and how Brightfyre was by her side in a moment. Surely he would come to a call of fear just as he did one of grief.

"By the time we caught up to you, you were on the ground mother, surrounded by dragon's breath and weirwood bark stained red with blood. Brightfyre curled his body around you, and when Sandor approached…." Alysanne trailed off, but her unspoken words rang in the room. Sandor had been petrified of fire since he was burned as a lad, it was understandable for him to be afraid of fire made flesh, of a dragon.

"I promised no one would know he was afraid, and told him to fetch the Maester while I waited with you." Aly continued, "But the servants already whisper that Brightfyre has grown too large for the Red Keep-he is as big as a carriage after all-and for them to see him huffing smoke at whoever came near…" The detail surprised Diana, Brightfyre was protective, but would he light a man on fire?

"Did he hurt anyone?" Diana asked, fearful of the answer. Brightfyre was just as much her child as Aly was, a child born in the flames of pain.

"No, but he did not like me telling him what to do." A hint of humor danced in Aly's lavender eyes, "I told him to go home, and when I made sure you were settled, I made sure he was as well."

"He listened to you?" Diana asked with a hint of awe, she had been training Brightfyre in High Valyrian whenever she had the time, and it seemed her work had paid off.

"Reluctantly," Aly replied with a giggle, "A dragon can only have one rider, after all." A touch of relief was felt then, for it assured that Brightfyre was loyal to Diana and only Diana, not just anyone who spoke High Valyrian.

"May I borrow the book, Aly?" Diana asked quietly, slightly disused to asking for something with such sincerity. She grew up a princess, after all, and then became lady of the West before becoming Queen in her own right, making it rather easy to simply command something rather than ask for it.

"Of course, mother." Alysanne replied with a hint of hesitance, and she watched her daughter chew her lip for a moment as if contemplating a risk Diana did not see. "Mother, what do you plan to do with the other eggs?"

Alysanne's previous words echoed in her mind, ' _A dragon can have only one rider,'_ surely a rider could only have one dragon as well. A flash of green flame covered Diana's sight in memories she had hoped to bury, and she blinked a few times before even attempting to answer her daughter's question. Four eggs remained, one of blue, one of black, one of silver, and one of green, secured in the vaults in the bowels of the Red Keep.

"I had not given much thought to it." Diana replied honestly, but the tightness of her voice betrayed that she brooded over them. She had read of dragons without riders, wild creatures who lived on Dragonstone, loyal to no one but compliant enough with full bellies. Why hatch an egg only to then be forced to care for a creature costing a small fortune, who brought no sense of companionship, no foundation of power?

Alysanne smiled softly at her then, as if Diana were the child. In her sick bed, pale as the Stranger and weak as a kitten, she did not doubt she played the part of the child. "Let me hatch one, mother, please!" Her voice was filled with childish excitement, as if asking for a pony for her name day.

"You are not a child, Aly. We cannot simply put the egg in your cradle and pray!" Diana snapped before she caught herself, her side screamed in protest from the large breath such a statement took, and it left the queen reeling. She took a slow breath and winced once more as the wound preened in pain, "We can discuss this at length at a later time, Alysanne. For now, we are still at war. I want you to wear your crown and distribute bread and copies of _The Seven Pointed Star_ with Septa Sera to Flea Bottom today, we need to keep the love of the Small Folk."

Alysanne looked as if she wished to protest, but Diana pinned her with the same stare that got the girl to leave feasts as a child, the look of a mother. Fury danced in Alysanne's violet eyes, and Diana saw herself as a youth as the young woman executed a perfect curtsy as she coldly dismissed herself with a crisp "Your grace."

With the door closing behind her, Diana sat up slowly and took the book from where Alysanne left it on the chair she once sat in. Tywin wished to marry their daughter off as soon as the war was won, but Diana feared Aly was too much like her mother, far too stubborn to marry any lord her father wished, not after Rhaegar. The husband who was never there save a few nights a moon, but Diana knew how enchanting her nephew could be as a child, and how happy a Alysanne was when she vowed to love her cousin for the rest of her days. Diana cursed every prophecy ever spoken in that moment, for without such things surely they would all have been for the better. Without her dragon dreams, Diana would not be queen, perhaps not even wed to Tywin, but she can't help but wonder if war would have bled the realm the way it had if she had never garnered her grandfather's favor and her brother's ire with her prophetic dreams.

The Maester had told her to rest, and she knew she should, but instead propped herself up on the mountain of pillows upon her bed and opened the ancient tomb, the title translated to ' _Dragons: Birth, Death and Riders'_ and began to read chapter one, hatching.

A/N:

So this chapter is working towards setting up the sequel, Alysanne will be more present in the sequel, so I'm trying to develop her character a bit more.

Also, posting will be a bit sporadic the next few weeks, I'm at Uni and finals are next few weeks. So if y'all wanna send vibes to the universe that I do good, I'd appreciate it.

P.S.

There's a hint as to one way that more dragons will come to be in the sequel, although I haven't settled on concrete riders just yet.


	72. Chapter 72

Tywin grunted in pain as the Maester worked, clucking at him of the ingredients in the salves being placed upon the nasty wound to his arm. The bloody arrow had pierced his already damaged shield, the head remaining embedded into the king's left arm. "It is a good thing the Seven bless the right hand of man and not the left, your highness, for I fear your arm shall be bandaged for a few moons, unable to be used for much."

The wound was not infected, but red and raw from the dragon glass head of the weapon. The war was as good was won, with Rhaegar dead. Tywin took a sick sort of joy in watching the dragon fall with a thrust of Jaime's sword. With his heir gone to decimate what remained of the Kingsguard and possibly return with Lyanna Stark, Tywin focused his remaining forces on ensuring that no loyalists to the Targaryens remained.

It had been two weeks since Tywin beamed with pride as Jaime plunged his sword into the dragonprince's chest, sealing the start of the Lannister Dynasty. Outside of the tiny skermishes as the loyalist armies were brought to heel as each lord bent the knee under threat of their entire house being put to the sword. It was the Daynes who the king went to personally, and was answered with an arrow from the Castellan. Dornish laws of inheritance did not favor gender, and had it not been for the fact that the Lady of house Dayne was now Lady Ashara, who remained in King's Landing, after the death of her sickly nephew, Edric, Tywin would have ended the line of Stony Dornishmen right then and there. But the foothold in Dorne through the Daynes was something Tywin would not pass on, not after the Martells refused to wed Oberyn to Alysanne and took Ned Stark as kin instead. Gerion had fought in the war the same as his brothers, and the taste of travel from the war had left the third son wishing to explore the smoking ruins of Valyria. Knowing his wife, Diana would jump at the chance to have a piece of her ancestors brought back for her from the ruins, but Tywin refused to spend the gold and risk the men on such a folly. Already, Tywin had paid the debts of the Targaryens to the Iron Bank, and no more Lannister gold would be wasted on petty mistakes. Gerion will wed Ashara and Lannister blood will flow through Dornish lords and ladies.

Tywin had spent his life building up the Lannister legacy, and he assured himself that his children and grandchildren will be more powerful than any lord or king of the Rock before them. The pieces were falling into place rather well, as Daemon had written of a child growing in Lynda Lannister nee Whent's belly, and heir to secure Harrenhal on the way. Already, ravens flew asking for betrothals for his unwed children, whether it be the spares made heirs desperate to secure their claim with a princess for a bride, despite Alysanne's newly made others wed their heirs quickly in times of war, and sought to secure the lordship of their grandchildren with a betrothal between either Prince Aemon or Princess Visenya, despite the twins not yet reaching their first name day.

At one time, Diana had joked of having seven children, one for each kingdom to secure Lannister influence, yet with five children, only five kingdoms could be won with weddings. The Rains of Castamere were sung often in the West, so he had no worries of losing influence in his ancestral lands, and his own brother had wed a Swyft, silencing any grumbles from his bannermen of a lack of Lannister weddings in the West. Tywin had plans for each of his children, wedding them into powerful houses. Should Lyanna Stark not survive, Jaime will wed a maiden from the Reach, most likely a Tarly or a Florent, the sister or daughter of whomever Tywin gives Stewardship of the Reach to. With Mace Tyrell dead, he left only two young sons and a daughter who still fed at her mother's breast. Tywin longed to shred the Tyrells the same way he plucked the fat flower during what the Bard's now called the Battle of the Drowned Flower, as Mace Tyrell had raced to his doom on the docks of Shipbreaker Bay, mistaking the Targaryen ships with Lannister Soldiers for his own allies.

The Ironborn had been quiet throughout the war, the only kingdom to remain neutral, so Tywin made a conscious ploy to have the Lord of Highgarden meet the fate of the drowned god, the king had the man who refused to parlay unless it was for Lord Baratheon's surrender was strung by his feet his body lowered into the sea for an entire day before the bloated body was lifted out and his head cut off to grace the bow of the flagship.

Tywin had grand plans for uniting the seven kingdoms, not just the six main players. His second son held the largest castle in the Riverlands, and would soon become the second most powerful house under the Tully's, and should a girl be born to Daemon, Tywin planned to betroth her to Edmure Tully, the young heir to the Riverlands, thus cementing the power dynamic surrounding the Trident.

Aemon would soon be announced as Lord of Dragonstone, although the babe would have a Castellan rule in his place until he was of age, and the rocky shores of the island called for a bride with a naval family. Ships were powerful things in both war and trade, Gemma becoming a Redwyne had opened trade routes between the Arbor and Lannisport, and the fleet of warships brought the Tyrell's to their knees. Perhaps a Stormlander bride for his youngest son, or young Yara Greyjoy, the only daughter of the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Visenya was said to have her mother's ethereal beauty just as Alysanne did, only with the Lannister coloring. His second daughter would be a golden lioness when she was older, and he would secure her a good marriage, perhaps with the heir that would come from Robert Baratheon and Lysa Tully. Already rumours swirled of the bastard babe in the Eyrie, Mya Stone, who was said to be the spitting image of the Stag heir, much to his wife's fury. The Lady Lysa had yet to fall with child, but the second daughter of Hoster was not given the luxury of a week long lay in with her husband that her sister had, and after only a single night a babe was preferred, but not expected.

It was his eldest daughter that kept his thoughts preoccupied, within six moons she would be able to wed without worries of the father being Rhaegar's, especially if the babe favored their mother's coloring as Alysanne did her own. His daughter would be the wife of a Lord Paramount, he would accept nothing less than the best for his daughter. The only problem with such a plan was that there were too few lord paramounts left without brides for themselves or their heirs. Which was why Tywin turned his eyes towards the Vale, and Jon Arryn. The man was older than Tywin by a handful of years, with no sons of his own, only nephews. Denys Arryn and Elbert Waynwood both vied for the Eyrie, and the split between the kingdom already showed damaging effects, as the Battle of the Bells had proven. Which was why he had summoned the old Falcon to the king's tent.

Jon Arryn was too old for battle, but without a son to send in his stead, he represented his house. During the final battle, the Fall of the Dragon or the battle of the Roaring Lion depending on who was asked to title it, Jon Arryn was pierced with a dagger and sported a scar that left his left eye blind and took half of his eyebrow. Half of his face was still bandaged, even weeks later, as he walked through the crimson silk flap of the tent.

When the Maester left a servant took his place, a scrawny boy who scampered forward to offer wine and strips of venison to the old lord. Jon Arryn sat down slowly at the seat offered, his body revealed his age even as his eyes gleamed with wisdom. He bowed his head as he greeted, "You wished to see me, your grace?"

Tywin smiled wryly, "Your vassals bicker like children while their ladies scheme to place their sons as lords of your keep." What little humor in Jon's eyes became strained then, Tywin was never one for feathery pleasantries and the lord knew it when he saw the king's face.

"I have no sons, your grace. I have wedded and bedded two women, both without living children to give me, but I have two nephews, both young and strong." Jon Arryn replied, his silver streaked hair seemed to grow as severe as the laughing lines upon his face. It was no wonder Ned Stark was beginning to be called the Quiet Wolf, for surely he was taught how to brood from the Falcon lord.

"Indeed, two unmarried young men," Tywin shrugged nonchalantly, "Both with ties to the multitude of houses under the rule of the Arryns, which would splinter with the end of the house."

The creeping of panic was subtle, Jon's shoulders rising to their full width, an attempt to exude more power in the situation. "The heir I state shall be a Lord Paramount, protector of the East." His tone was strained slightly, as if he did not completely believe his words. "House Arryn does not die with me, the blood of Arryn flows in Dennis and Elbert."

"Yet neither have the family name of Arryn, a decree of titling of such magnitude would need a royal decree, and even then…" Tywin trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the stinging pain in his arm from the movement. "Without proper backing, civil war could easily erupt in the Vale within a moon of your passing."

"What happened to keeping the King's peace? Surely the crown would have no wish for war to begin so soon after the beginning of a new dynasty." Jon bit back, and Tywin suppressed a grin, the man was no fool.

"Hence the reason I summoned you, Lord Arryn." Tywin replied, and a hint of relief filled the Falcon. "The heir to the Vale needs backing, royal backing. Which house would rise in rebellion to a lord with a princess for a bride?"

Cloudy blue eyes blinked once, twice, thrice in shock. "Your grace, are you suggesting a betrothal?" Jon asked, his tone unsure. He knew that with two heirs that were not brothers, one had no stronger claim than the other outside of familial bonds. Yet if Jon were to announce his heir, and wed him into a powerful family, the _royal_ family, any rebellious houses would be plucked root and stem by the mighty lion king.

"My daughter, Alysanne, was widowed in the war, with no children of her own and still young, fresh and fertile." Tywin began, "I would see her wed to the Darling of the Vale and made Lady of the Eyrie."

A/N:

So this is why I am trying to flesh out Alysanne, shit is about to go down with her in the sequel.


	73. Chapter 73

Jaime had never feared his father more than in that moment. The heir to the seven kingdoms had ridden into the Lannister camp outside of Storm's End, where the armies had camped as they made headway towards marching to their individual homes, breaking up small scraps that remained of the Targaryen Loyalists along the way. For weeks the soldiers had marched at half pace to Storm's End, breaking what was left of those against Lannister rule while rewarding loyalists and punishing traitors.

Lyanna had recovered well from the birth, and did not walk with the Stranger as some women had, and insisted their son be swaddled against her chest as they rode. Brandon had been quiet since seeing the child, with a tiny head of dark hair coming in and sleepy green eyes, the Stark looked unsure if he should be relieved or punch his childhood companion in the jaw for getting his sister with child. Better, everyone knew, than if Jon were Rhaegar's child. Yet still, Jaime looked upon his bride with such uncontained love he thought he might burst with it.

It was the affection that he felt for Lyanna that kept him from whisking his horse out of the sea of red tents and flee with his newly formed family. His wolf lady kept her head high, riding with a practiced ease and with a grace he did not expect to see in her. It was not the ethereal movements that his sister had gleaned from their mother, but a natural heartbeat that Lyanna moved in sync with. In a pair of Jaime's trousers and a roaring lion tunic, Lyanna looked as wild as the wolf's wood she whispered of in their bed at night.

Jaime gave sideways glances to the Stark woman as they ventured to the heart of camp, soldier's and servants alike stopping to stare. King Tywin was waiting for them, outside a tent more grand than most commoner's homes, no doubt a fire was lit and food being served within. His father was dressed in a red doublet with the roaring, burning lion that had become the new sigil of the royal house paired with black trousers and long black boots. The glittering crown upon his head cemented the image of authority, and for a moment Jaime felt as if he were about to enter his father's Solar for a dreaded reading lesson, not informing him that he had a grandson.

Jaime had never seen his father looked surprised, but the twitch of his stiff upper lip gave him away. Neither father nor son said a word as Jaime dismounted his new horse and moved to his old mount that his lady now rode upon. There were no fine silks for Lyanna to swathe herself in the way Jaime was used to seeing women of their station, but she looked just as regal as his mother did in priceless jewels. Her mane of dark hair tussled in the breeze as Lyanna unwound the child from her chest. Slowly, Jon was unfurled from his mother's breast, his tiny face scrunching with the exposure to the light. No one in that camp moved or breathed in that moment, all eyes watching the golden prince take the Stark lady's hand and walk slowly before the king. At an arm's length away, Lyanna swooped down into a deep bow, her lack of skirts leaving her without the option to curtsy, and Jaime followed with an equally over the top display of respect for the newly crowned king.

"Your grace." Lyanna's voice was the sound of leaves crinkling, barely audible yet deafening in the absence of other sounds. "May I present your grandson." Swaddled in a fine tunic of his own, gifted from the Lady of Nightsong out of her heir's old clothing when they stopped their to rest on their way to the Stormlands, Jon was a beautiful babe.

Jaime has seen his father surprised less than a handful of times in his life. When he and Aly had ridden into the Lion's Mouth, covered in mud and sticks in their hair, the look of shock that passed their father's face had the twins bursting into a fit of giggles. But standing before his father, presenting a son of his own, Jaime realized perhaps he should have introduced the child in private. ' _And defeat the purpose of a public display.'_ Jaime may be cocksure, but he was no fool, he and Lyanna had agreed that the best chance for their child was this route, no matter how angry his father would be.

King Tywin blinked at his son and the retinue that followed him. Lord Steffon broke through the crowd to stand at his good-cousin's side, and seemed to be in shock at the sight of Lyanna Stark, alive and with a Lannister child. The large man glanced between Lyanna, Tywin and Jaime, his blue eyes guarded before he stated roughly, "The lad has a lion's eyes, but a wolf's mane."

Jaime flashed a smile of relief before taking Lyanna's free hand in his own, "My royal father, may I present my bride, Princess Lyanna of houses Stark and Lannister, and our son, Prince Jon." Tywin did not move though, rooted to the dirt he stood on, the man only curled his lip.

Steffon glanced at his king, silently urging for peace, while little Jon squirmed in his mother's arms and looked ready to cry. "My Queen had written of the Godswood in the Riverlands having no need for such a sorrowful face for such a happy occasion, trust Queen Diana to write in riddles of her own heir." Tywin ground out, "I see now what she meant."

Jaime grinned for a moment before shoving it down, mother had received his letter! His mother and his brother were the only ones to know that it was in the Riverrun Godswood that he and Lyanna had made love that night she conceived their child, and Lyanna had teased that the Old God's recognised their union, as the heart tree had borne witness to two souls merging into one flesh. Was that not what the Seven preached, after all?

It had become a lovely cover, the law of the realm recognising a marriage sealed by the old or the new gods, so long as it was consummated. They may not have said the words that would bind them before that heart tree with the weeping face, but the godswood witnessed the act of two people giving themselves to one another. They would still be wed in the Sept, as every royal had before them, but the unclear rules of the old gods allowed their son to be given the name of the royal house, not Sand, Snow or Hill. It was the bit of leeway that made saying Jon was conceived in their marriage bed feel less of a lie, but a truth worth clinging to. Jon was his son, his heir, his first born, but whispers still broke out in the camp around them of dragonspawn.

"The Old Gods have blessed our union with a child upon our wedding night," A dark looked crossed Jaime's face, "Had I known that a child had sprung from such an act, I would have publically announced that our betrothal had been finalized."

Lyanna, for all her fierceness, seemed subdued by his words, and Jaime bit his tongue before he lashed out at his bride without meaning to. "We shall feast tonight in Storm's End, bring the lady and her child into the castle to sleep as befitting the station of a Stark ." Tywin ground out, before turning on his heel and making his way back into his horse, to ride back to the castle and fume in a solar borrowed from Lord Baratheon. There was silence for a moment before Brandon Stark turned to his sister, the retreating form of the king causing those gathered to break out into loud whispers.

"Lya, no matter what the King or Queen may think, say or attempt to do, your son is a Stark of Winterfell." Brandon's voice was so low Jaime was sure that only he and Lyanna could hear him. "And he is always welcome in the North."

Jaime was about to snarl a response to his good brother when Lyanna spoke for him, "Thank you, Brandon. I am sure you are eager to return to your bride and child as Jaime was." Her tone was curt, but the hidden sorrow was not too deeply buried that he could not detect it.

The Stark heir walked away without another word, leaving a tense air in his wake. Lyanna walked back to her horse in the opposite direction the king went, stroking the mane of the large steed that Jaime had given her eleven months ago, although it seemed a lifetime ago now. "I am going to rest when we arrive in the castle, and shall keep Jon with me, Jaime. You need to speak to your father, fix this." Lyanna commanded him, her grey eyes sharp with a hint of fear and a wild sense of love. If his mother possessed the Targaryen fire as his father said, then surely his wife possessed the Stark wolf's blood.

"As you command, my princess." He said with a cocksure tone he did not completely feel, and mounted his horse. Slowly they rode to Storm's End, where his father's fury awaited them.

A/N:

Quick update, I don't have any internet at home right now, so sorry for the short chapter. So Jaime and Lyanna are not married technically, but they are lying and stating that they said the vows of the Old Gods before they had sex in the Godswood so their son won't be considered a bastard. Of course, Tywin is pissed about being blind sighted like this, and the next Tywin POV will show this.

I'm considering having another Rhaella POV to show how life is in Pentos before Tywin Surefoot returns to King's Landing, I'm not sure yet. Dany will be a strong presence in the sequel, so I'd like to pop in on her childhood.

Also, if anyone would like to Beta, I would love someone to shoot ideas to.


	74. Chapter 74

Rhaella, or Sarella as the people of Pentos knew her, stared idly at the swirling sea before her. The manse was a large estate, filled with airy rooms, a cellar and large garden. Illyrio Mopatis claimed it to be the home of a Blackfyre during the reign of her grandfather, Aegon the Unlikely, a palace for a king without a throne. How ironic that the once Queen of Westeros would find herself spending her days here, in secret exile.

Sometimes, she still dreamed of the Red Keep. The dream changed every night, yet kept the same tune, she could call it prophetic, but dragon dreams had done her little good over the years.

In her dream, she was a child, chasing her sister and brother around the halls playing come-into-my-castle and other childish games. Sometimes, she was the maiden in distress, other times she was the Rhaenys to Diana's Visenya and Aerys's Aegon. In the end, the three children always burst into the throne room, only to find themselves as adults. Rhaella hated this reoccurring dream, in which she stepped foot into the room to find herself in her bridal gown, walking towards a livid Aerys.

King Aegon the Unlikely and King Jaehaerys the second stood side by side, each in their own crowns. "I am sorry, my dear girl." King Aegon's voice murmurs, stepping forward to remove her maiden's cloak.

Never aware that she is dreaming, Rhaella pleads with her grandfather, "Please, your grace, wed me into a noble house!" Tears begin to prick her eyes as she sees her brother, the man she would give her maidenhead to, scoff in disgust. Aerys was no maid himself, and had no desire to bed his sister over a tavern wench. She remembers when she was young, and her dreams of being a bride were centered around a stag's cloak, and Steffon's bright smile.

"The song of Ice and Fire must be sung." King Jaehaerys stated, his voice echoing through the dragon skulls that surrounded them, "And from the line of Aerys and Rhaella, the song roars to life."

Her father takes her by the arm then and leads her the altar, where her groom is no longer an angry young man of sixteen, but a madman in his thirties. Long, unkept hair hangs limply in his face, purple eyes wild as his long nails scratch at her arms. "Burn them all! Burn them all!" He shrieks, and Rhaella sobs and beats at his form before her in an attempt to get away. Fire roars around them, following Aerys's mad desires, and from the flame her sister bursts forth and with a roar of her own, pulls the crazed king into the flame with her.

The shrieks of pain haunt her as his form crumbles in the smoke, and a feminine form reemerges. Only, it is not her sister, not Diana, but another Valyrian beauty, with eyes the same shade of lilac as Rhaella's own. The woman is of the age of a maiden, youth pouring out of her as she smiles. Her full pink lips move to form words, but the crackling of the fire takes the sound and Rhaella cannot hear her before the dream is pulled from her view and she awakes.

It's this dream that keeps her awake at night, and leads her to stare out at the sea in the gardens. Barristan, or Jon, as she reminds herself to call him, seems just as out of sort as she, but for different reasons. While he was once heir to a keep himself, the old kingsguard still struggles to be the head of the house, rather than the shield. It is with Dany that he plays the role best, a dutiful father wanting to give his child the world. Her fingers toy with the dyed purple locks upon her head as she imagines the two most important people in her life, her husband and child.

Jon does not ask to do anything more than sleep in the same bed, but he acts the role of spouse in every other manner, he protects her, makes her feel safe, holds her when she wakes from a dream of her doomed wedding. They make quite the pair, a former Queen and a once Kingsguard, but in Pentos it is easy to weave a tale of a rich merchant's son who married a beauty from Norvos and settled in the city of opportunity in order to grow the family business. The Spider had spun a web for them, calling in favors or blackmailing the elite in order to open trade routes for the spices the Evenstars were apparently known for (even if the supposed fame was less than a year old), and kickstarting a new way for the couple to earn income.

Diana had sent them overseas with enough gold to purchase the manse and employ servants for the rest of Rhaella's natural life, but it was not just herself she needed to fret over. Already, her little daughter had caught the Magistrate's eye, and he offered to find a good match for Dany when the time came, but Rhaella refused. Being forced to wed had only caused her misery, and she would not force her daughter to the same fate. She was a woman of figures, and determined to leave her daughter an heiress in her own right, not depending on a dowry to allow her a rich husband.

Sarella Evenstar was no longer Rhaella Targaryen, and her daughter would not suffer the fate of so many princesses before her, she would marry for love.

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Diana eased herself forward, taking slow, measured steps. Her side burned with each breath, but she ignored the pain and moved forward towards her armoire. Gritting her teeth, she was halfway across the ten step space between her bed and where her gowns lay when the door burst open, Talla Brax and Ashara Dayne entering. "Your grace!" Talla half shrieked, rushing forward and helping to steady the swaying queen. "Grand Maester Pycelle insisted you remain in bed for another week!"

Slowly, Diana took a deep breath and leaned part of her weight on her handmaiden. "If I listened to Pycelle every time he dribbled about bedrest, I would still be recovering from the twins!" She snapped before realizing the harshness of her tone. In a more joking voice she continued, "Prince Jaime and Princess Alysanne's birth, that is."

Both women gave appeasing smiles at their queen. "Speaking of birth, your grace. The Lady Stark has gone into labor." Talla smiled warmly at the news, excited at the prospect of another babe in the nursery. The Brax maiden spent a good deal of time with the youngest prince and princess at the request of the queen, who did not wish to expose the children to the herbs and salves that currently smelt up the royal chambers.

Diana lit up at the news, "At last! The Maester feared he would need to induce the lady with those horrid smelling spices from Lys." She laughed softly, remembering Lady Catelyn, larger than a castle and standing on swollen feet, praying to the Mother for her child to arrive soon. She moved to continue towards her wardrobe when she noticed that Ashara Dayne had not spoken a word nor moved a muscle since the customary curtsy and mumble of "your grace" as she entered. "Lady Dayne, is everything alright?" Her tone was non combative, but the Dornish woman seemed to look on the queen only with hate.

"The Maester was on his way from the rookery to deliver these to you when Lady Stark went into the birthing bed, he asked us to deliver these." Ashara stated stiffly, holding out both scrolls and letters. Had a rider come as well as a raven? It had been a good deal of time since news of the war reached them. "A storm flew ravens off course, so the letters have delayed information."

In blue silks, Ashara moved with a regality Diana did not expect. A scroll with a lion's seal greeted her, and Diana recognised her eldest son's loopy scrawl, similar to her own.

 _Mother,_

 _I pray to the Seven this letter finds you in good health. I write from the Tower of Joy in Dorne, where the Lady Lyanna rests as we prepare to head back to Storm's End, our son in tow._

 _No mother, your eyes did not deceive you. Jon Lannister, first of his name, prince of the Seven Kingdoms and heir to the crown prince was born less than a moon's turn ago. He has Lannister eyes and the long Stark face, mother, I cannot wait for you to meet him._

 _I pray that this letter will reach you in time to write to father, to tell him that his heir has wed, and now has a lady wife from house Stark. The Realm will believe that we wed before the Old Gods, for I have no doubt you shall wish to see Lyanna and I wed in the Sept before the Seven._

 _Father will be furious, I have no doubt, but my son is just that, my true born son, and I shall present him as such._

 _Please mother, write to father, you are the only person he ever truly listens to without his own endeavors coming first._

 _Your son,_

 _Jaime Lannister_

 _Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the West, the young lion_

Diana's dream of the prince that was promised flooded to the forefront of her mind, and she held back tears at the thought of her first grandchild. If Jaime had found Lyanna, alive and well, then surely the war was won, and Tywin would march home to her soon. She had not heard anything from the outcome of the battle, save for that they were victorious. Bodies were being collected, burned and buried, leaving ravens of lists of the dead to be sent. The Septs were filled with smallfolk sending prayers for their men to return in good health, or with mourners weeping for those who would not return at all. It had been weeks since news of victory came, how old was Jaime's letter?

She cracked the seal of the next letter in the pile, the burning lion on red wax identifying the letter to be from her husband.

 _To Diana of houses Lannister and Targaryen, the Brightheart, the Everflame, Queen regnant of the Rhoynar, the First men and the Andals, Lady of Casterly Rock, Protector of the realm, mother of Brightfyre and keeper of my heart_

 _The battle is won, my love, yet the bodies remain. Already, the Daynes roar for the Lady Ashara to return and take her place as Lady of Starfall and her brother's bones and sword to accompany her. Already, I can hear your voice scolding me to return the bones of those fallen in battle to their families for burial. My lovely queen, I sometimes wish for you to be in Storm's End with me, soothing the commoner's simpering and wedding off ladies to keep rebel lord's preoccupied with feasts and bedding ceremonies, but I know that the throne must be kept secure, and Brandon Stark's voice echoes the words you taught him, "Just as there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, there must always be a noble of every house in their ancestral keep, lest another seek to it for their own." Our reign is almost secure, my love. Already, what few houses in the Reach that remain loyal to the dead have begun to bend the knee. Threat of losing every member of such a house works for great motivation I have found._

 _Soon, I shall return to you and our children. Already, lords and heirs are attempting to curry favor with the royal family, one princess in particular._

 _Your husband,_

 _Tywin of house Lannister, the royal lion, King of the Rhoynar, the First men and the Andals, Lord of Casterly Rock and Protector of the realm_

Holding back the rush of warmth at his words, Diana read and reread her husband's letter. When he had left, her fury was so cold that his loving and beseeching farewell had fallen on deaf ears, and in an attempt at forgiveness, he had begun to write her letters from war, knowing that she was a sentimental fool who would keep them all. For a man as cold as ice in front of the realm, in the softness of their chambers the lion was replaced with a purring kitten, a vulnerability that only she had seen. Yet the end of the letter caused her to pause, and she dismally wondered which would be worse, if he were talking of their less than one name day old Visenya, or the recently widowed Alysanne.

There were a couple letters she still needed to read, seals with golden stags, green roses and a black raven lay waiting to be cracked open and their content revealed, but Diana saw the blooming sorrow in the maiden before her. "War is filled with pain, no matter if one loses or wins, Lady Dayne." Diana said softly, "I am sorry for your loss, may the Seven bring your brother the peace he did not find on the battlefield."

Ashara curled her lip ever so slightly, and the flash in her eyes revealed the rage that walked so closely with grief, reminding Diana of the cool stone of the balcony on her bare feet, the wild look in Tywin's eyes as she raged and cried for her sister who was not even dead. The image of a falling star flashed through her mind, reminding her of the dream she had the night before, the omen she tried to prevent. ' _The Bloodraven said I was too picky with my dreams, yet how do I prevent something I had a hand in causing?'_

"He would not have needed to ride upon the battlefield, had Prince Rhaegar not fallen to the madness of prophecy." Ashara bit back, surprising Diana slightly. Just how much did the Star of the Morning tell his dear sister? "I pray that the dragon blood in the royal family does not need them to the same fate."

There was an unspoken challenge to her words, and Diana's mind was drawn to when she was young, and a Candlemaker's daughter was her biggest threat. Diana had no wish for Ashara to be harmed, not like the whore Tytos Lannister kept in his bed, but if her grief needed to be directed, then let her blame the last living Targaryen, and live if only spite her. With a sickeningly sweet smile, Diana cooed softly, "You are rather blessed, Lady Dayne. The Seven smile upon you."

Ashara recoiled, as if Diana were a snake about to bite into her flesh. "Blessed, your grace?" Her eyes were a deeper purple than the Valyrian's, with a depth that one could drown in. The woman wore a deep blue gown in the Dornish fashion, the keyhole back no doubt causing whispers amongst courtiers.

"The Seven surely smile upon you, born into the second most powerful vassal house in Dorne, third I suppose, if the Martell cadet branch are to be counted as their own house," Diana smiled a touch ruefully, Johanna Martell was a loyal Lannister, even if from a minor branch. "And when Arthur joined the king's guard, you were but a death away from being the Dayne of Starfall."

Pain seeped into Ashara's form then as the Queen's words registered. "My brother Edric has a son of his own, little Ned and a yronwood wife." Ashara held fast to her words, "The succession of Starfall is clear."

Diana looked upon the young woman, the same age as she when she had her first children, and remembered how easily wounded a youth can be. "A wife without enough milk to feed her own babe, your nephew shall be milk brothers with pages," She remembered the look of ice Tywin gave to those he dislikes, and tried to mimic it as best she could, "A babe that weak could die easily, and with peace just out of reach, his father might never be home to protect him, why Lord Edric could fall in a skirmish with bandits, leaving Starfall without a Lord, only it's Lady, one currently residing in King's Landing."

Ashara glared at the Diana, and she held back a smile at the small victory. The Dornish woman was grieving her brother, and were it not for the duties as handmaiden of the Queen, Diana was sure she would have never left her chambers. "I am not telling you this to be cruel, Lady Ashara. I am simply warning you, in times of war, a house can be easily snuffed out. Do not let yours be that house, the next Tarbeck or Reyne." Diana watched the woman glare at her, her fists shaking by her sides. She held back the urge to scratch at the healing wound at her hip and instead stood as regal as she could in her dressing down, "I do not condone the killing of babes, but my husband is not as merciful. Your value increases significantly should your elder brother and his heir come to meet the Stranger sooner than later."

"I have already met the Stranger, your grace." She spat in fury, and Diana held back the triumphant smile, she fell for the bait. "He has shared your bed for nearly twenty years, he calls himself King. Fuck the King!" Talla gasped at Ashara's words, and for a moment Diana had forgotten her other handmaiden was in the room.

"That is treason, Ashara!" Talla spoke in scandalized whispers, as if the Queen herself did not hear what was being heard.

Diana glared at the woman, fury rising in her slowly. It was not the all consuming rage that enveloped her when she drug Gregor Clegane's hands over a roasting fire, or when she pulled her own kin into the flames with her. No, this was a slow build, all the anger with none of the fire. It was her pride that was wounded, not her heart. "You think you have seen the Stranger in my husband?" It was as if she had stepped away from herself, the words coming from her mind but not registering the movement of her mouth. "Lady Ashara, I have walked with the Stranger once or twice, and he is much less cruel than my Tywin. No, Tywin Lannister is your king, you may serve the Prince of Dorne, but he has bent the knee to the lion, and you shall as well."

Ashara glanced around, seemingly looking for the sense of safety that came with being under the protection of another. Diana took another step forward, ignoring the stinging pain of her wound as she stalked forward like a lion honing in on it's prey. Ashara wore her hair down, not in the complicated braids of southern fashion, and Diana took advantage of such a fact, her fingers digging into the woman's scalp and pulling her to her knees before the monarch. "You forget your place, Lady Ashara. When my husband returns from war, _victorious."_ She snarled the last words, "I shall convince him that a beauty such as yourself would be better in the North with Princess Elia, than a prisoner of the South to ensure the Dayne's loyalty. Give your husband an heir, and I shall personally see that Dawn is returned to Starfall."

"And should I refuse to marry a barbaric Northernmen?" Ashara asked, her purple eyes wide with pain as Diana dug her nails slightly into her scalp.

"Star metal is just as rare as Valyrian steel, and when given to the right smith, may be molded just as well." She grinned darkly then, "Daemon's place as Lord of Harrenhal would be cemented quite well with a house sword." Releasing her hand from the locks of raven hair, Diana stepped back and turned to Talla as if nothing happened. "I wish to see Blackfyre before I assist Lady Catelyn in the birthing chambers, so perhaps a nicer tunic dress with pants today."

Talla scurried to where the host of clothes for the Queen lay in wait, and went about plucking finely embroidered long shirts with slits up the sides that allowed for the dress like shirt to be worn easily with pants without being immodest or unfeminine. Diana had grown to like Talla Brax, mainly because with her Lady mother Alyssa headed back to her own keep, Diana felt as though a bit of her friend remained with her daughter here. The girl was as blunt as her mother, but had an eye for propriety and chivalry that came with the girl's love of fantasy stories. The Ballad of Florian and Jonquil was sung by the bards more and more often with the Brax lady in King's Landing.

Moving to step behind the changing screen, Diana spared a last glance at the shaken form of Ashara Dayne. "I shall visit with Lord Rickard later and discuss betrothals, but for now, you're dismissed Lady Ashara." It was silent save for the rustle of silk as the Dornish woman fled.

Squaring her shoulders, Diana moved through the room as if nothing had happened, although a dull ache filled her side from the sudden movements her body was not prepared for. Talla kept her head down as she worked, pulling the items of clothing on the Queen's form and tying laces into place. "Talla, I am sorry you had to see that."

"You did as you saw fit, your grace." Talla meekly replied, and Diana frowned. Where was the blunt woman who offered to return a ruby earing she had stolen as a babe? Surely a simpering fool did not take her place.

"Court is a pit of vipers, a lesson your mother wished for you to learn. Dreaming of knights and being Lady of a great castle is for children, Talla, which is why she asked for you to be brought into my household before a match was made for you." The girl still had a year or so before it would be proper for her to be wed, but betrothals could occur at any age.

Diana inhaled and exhaled slowly, centering herself. She had not seen Brightfyre since she was injured, and her heart called for him as much as it did for her husband. There was still too much to do, she had to ensure Lady Catelyn made it through the birthing bed, respond to the ever growing stack of letters, speak with Varys on the state of the realm and her sister, planning the grand welcome feast for the returning victorious soldiers, play with her youngest children who needed their mother, being Queen came with so much more to do than a simple Lady. Oh, to be young and bold again.

"Talla, will you fetch me a necklace? The lion with the ruby in his mouth." Diana commanded, and smiled at the sight of the heavy gold draped across her neck. Her fingers toyed with the stone, and she smiled, thinking back to the first victory she ever won as Lady of the West, and how to continue such a path towards ruling justly and successfully. Humming the rains of Castamere under her breath as Talla worked to pin her hair up into a nest of braids, Diana plotted how to play the game of thrones.

A/N:

Holy shit guys, this fic has reached 300 followers. To celebrate, a nice long chappie (as for some reason, my mind has nicknamed chapters) with two POV's, the Targaryen sisters.

While I will still be working on this fic, I have the first chapter written for a Batman comics centered fic that I'm debating on posting, which would be OCx Edward Nygma/The Riddler x Jervis Tetch/The Mad Hatter, with a little bit of lovelorn Batman/Bruce Wayne mixed in, I might end up posting it, might not.

Thank you to everyone reading this, you guys with your kind words make my day and low key help soothe my mental health with your encouraging reviews.

Also, Diana may seem a little cruel to Ashara, but that's because she's a piece of the board that refused to be moved, and Diana has dreamed of Ashara throwing herself from the tower as she did in canon, so instead of her grief turning to sorrow, Diana is focusing Ashara on rage, on the importance of her house rather than herself.


	75. Chapter 75

Tywin paced like a lion in a cage, growling and snarling as his squire poured him a deep glass of strong wine. ' _How dare he? How dare he! He is my son, yet he has lost any wit his mother or I could have given him!'_ Tywin thought coldly, snatching the goblet and dismissing the stone faced second Baratheon son for the night.

Within the rooms given to him in Storm's End, Tywin glared down at the paperwork in his solar, all his perfectly etched plans, gone to ruin. His son dare present a bastard to him as a future king? As his own flesh and blood? Lyanna Stark was gone with Rhaegar for months, long enough for him to put a child in her and fulfill the damn prophesy that had haunted the Targaryens for years. He knew Jaime had only a lick of the knowledge his father possessed, but how could he be so foolish?

Tywin wanted to rage, to destroy the papers upon his desk and throw a childish tantrum, but he knew better than to do so, he was _king_ and a king did not throw things about the way a little lordling would. So instead he took a long pull from his wine and waited for his son to appear before him and face the wrath of the Lannister king.

He did not wait long as three soft knocks echoed upon the door, and his eldest appeared with only a hint of a cower in his form. Jaime bowed deeply and for a beat longer than one normally would before rising, still not daring to look into his father's eyes. "Did you enjoy your little show out there?" Tywin said calmly, the only hint of true anger in the way he gripped his goblet of wine, "If you think you can force a Lannister to bend to the whims of another, than you must think yourself a Tarbeck or a Reyne."

Jaime flinched, remembering the whispers at the Rock of what had transpired in the year before his birth. He was not supposed to hear the rumors of his father drowning babes in their mother's tears, his mother ripping the tongues of Ellyn Reyne's daughters with her talon sharp claws. "Jon is my son, and your grandson-"

"He is dragonspawn!" Tywin snarled, the last bit of wine in his glass hitting the wall with the goblet it was thrown with. "The Lannister legacy rests upon your shoulders, and the trueborn children you will have with your wife. I will not let you destroy everything I have built over the love of a northern girl and her bastard!"

Jaime's hand reached for his sword, but paused when he realized he could not draw arms against his father, let alone the king. "She is my wife, and Jon is my son! Look into his eyes, and you will find your own staring back at you, the eyes of a Lannister." Tywin curled his lip at his heir's stubborn streak. When Diana pushed that she was right, it was easy for him to debate with her, to put his foot down when he needed to and remind her who was king, and yet with his son, Tywin knew that he would not live forever, and the wild streak his son inherited from his mother, one Tywin loathed to admit was a Targaryen trait, was sure to bring the freshly minted dynasty to an early end.

"There is no way to prove that!" Did he need to beat sense into his son? Use his firsts to prove that his heir was a fool? Damn him! "The Stark girl was gone for just under a year, long enough for Rhaegar to force a child into her womb! Do you honestly think a single romp beneath a Heart's tree would invalidate the months of opportunity that Dragon had to fulfil his damn prophesy!"

"No Targaryen has ever had green eyes," Jaime defended, "And Jon has his father's nose as well, although he has his mother's hair and long face. He is my son and heir, father, and there is nothing you can do to stop this fact from spreading through the Seven Kingdoms, no doubt Lyanna and I were the talk of Dorne in Nightsong and every keep we rested in on our way into the Stormlands, no doubt Lord Steffon has sent his fastest rider with news to mother of this development."

"Babes die during such journeys at the one from Storm's End to King's Landing." Tywin ground out, waiting for the crack of panic in his son, but was met with steeled resolve instead.

"Lord Brandon has made it very clear that Jon is as much a Stark as a Lannister, should he die, the North and Riverlands will rise against us, no doubt by now his Tully wife has given him an heir as his sister has for me." Jaime was calm, the words practiced in his mind during the hours spent riding towards his father, forming a plan to save his child.

Tywin frowned, he could not declare the child a bastard either, and give his enemies a Blackfyre to rally around. He may be a child now, but children grew into men, men with claims stronger than any female heir. Tywin was known for ending houses, root and stem, yet had allowed his Lady wife to be the last living Targaryen save for an old man at the Night's Watch, half blind and older than Aegon the Unlikely. Tywin was a man of no mercy, the King of Seven Kingdoms and the bringer of a new era, yet as he stared down his son with such a cold fury all he could think of was when he held the boy for the first time. It was in a time like this, freshly returning from war to find his Diana, his Brightheart, pale as a ghost holding two little bundles in their house colors. Was that how Jaime found Lyanna, waxy with fever and holding a child she claimed as his?

Varys simpered of how the lords spoke, that King Tywin ruled the land, but never his bedchamber, and he knew that if one were to find a weakness in him, it was in his wife, and by extension, their children. How cruel of the Seven to give his son his father's faults, yet so few of his virtues. The silence drew long as Tywin raged in his mind, before finally grounding out, "You and the Lady Lyanna were wed by a Septon in front of the Heart's Tree in Riverrun, but as a display of peace, wish to renew your vows in the Sept of Baelor before the people, and dedicate your first born to the faith, no doubt the new High Septon will be pleased with such an event." He held back a guffaw at the thought, the previous man to fulfill the position had died from a case of bloodied bowels right before the coronation, a shame really. "Jon shall be raised a Lannister, he will foster at Casterly Rock when he is of age and groomed for the throne he will one day inherit from you."

Jaime's face broke into a smile so wide Tywin wondered if it hurt. "Thank you father! Please, allow me to invite my wife and son to dine with us, allow you to meet them properly." His silver-gold locks shone atop his head as he began to move towards the door.

"I have not dismissed you, Jaime." The cold voice of regality had his son freeze on the spot, "He must not act, look or dress as a Targaryen. Even an inkling of madness, and I shall ship the boy to be a Septon in the Fingers. You favored my looks, let us pray that your son favors Lannister traits, even Stark ones, but there must be no hint of Dragon in him."

"He is Jon Lannister, and shall be raised as a lion." Jaime replied curtly, and Tywin held back a grin, perhaps his son had learned something of legacy after all.

A/N:

Little bit of the aftermath of Jaime's little plot. It worked in his favor, for now. In case no one noticed, Jaime and Tywin meet their heirs in similar manners, I figured if anything could soften Tywin's heart, it's the sight of his wife holding their children for the first time, and thus he was reminded of himself in Jaime.

Drama will ensue when they reach the capital, as Diana sees Jon as the Prince that was Promised, while Tywin is trying to raise a true Lannister.

Next chapter:

Meet Brandon and Catelyn's child!

Diana finishes reading the letters that she has received before her 'accident' including from the Reach, the Night's Watch and even the Iron Islands.

Alysanne researches hatching a dragon of her own, and visits Brightfyre.

Tywin Surefoot returns from Pentos.


	76. Chapter 76

The babe that fed at Lady Stark's breast was a beautiful child, with Stark grey eyes and a bald head that held the barest fuzz of auburn. Holding her own youngest children, Diana was drawn back to when she was a first time mother, and her babe's flesh was pressed against her own for the first time. Catelyn mirrored Diana's memory, holding the child with the care and worry of a first time mother. "I think I shall call him James, after Prince Jaime." The former Tully murmured, finally breaking her loving gaze to her child to bow her head respectfully to her Queen as she entered in a swirl of pale silver silks. Her gown looked like winter, with a white raven flying above snowy ground on the skirts.

"A lovely name, my lady, but if I may suggest…" Diana trailed off, stopping at the woman's bedside and staring down at the child, "You are a Southern bride destined to be a Lady of the North, your heir should have a Northern name, not one of the South."

Catelyn blinked at the Queen, and a realization dawned on her then, "There has never been a Lady Stark born south of the Neck." Diana smiled at her, so she had read the books the royal gave her for their wedding, _A Time for Wolves_ by Maester Willard and _The Houses of the North: From The King who Knelt to The Wandering Wolf._ Catelyn stared down at her first born, her eldest son, and smiled warmly, "Torrhen Stark, he shall be the Lord who rises, not the King who knelt."

Diana grinned then, and laughed warmly. Catelyn looked at her strangely, not expecting such a reaction, "There is an old Valyrian tradition, from before the Doom, for a mother to whisper a prophecy of their child's future into their ear for the first moon they live. Children were often sickly that young, so their future was supposed to give them strength."

"Did you continue the tradition, your grace?" Catelyn asked, curiosity coloring her features.

"Had I known it to be a tradition, I would have." Diana replied honestly, "I recently started reading more books in High Valyrian, rescued from the Doom by my ancestors, and merchants seeking to make some coin off of them." Cooped up in her sick bed for a week after the incident out riding, she had requested reading materials from the private royal library, something that she had not had complete access to before. She remembered as a child, sitting upon her grandfather's lap as he read to her from Danys the Dreamer's personal journal, or a Septon's account of Aegon the Conqueror's grand entrance into what was from then on known as King's Landing. Yet as a newly minted Lannister, the doors to the library were sealed shut from her, her brother sneering that she was no longer a Targaryen but a traitor to her blood, an Andal Whore. Oh, for Aerys to see her now, sitting upon his throne with a living breathing dragon of her own.

"There is always time to renew the tradition, your grace." Catelyn replied with a warm smile that Diana shared. When Rickard Stark had written to her that Brandon's betrothal contract was signed, she discreetly sent word for information on the girl, and was happy to find that the reports given to her were accurate, Hoster Tully groomed both his daughters to be Lady wives to Lord Paramounts. Outside of the small scuffle with Petyr Baelish, Brandon had won over his lady wife quite well, so much so that she wished to name her firstborn after his best friend and crown prince. "Surely word has come by now of Lord Daemon's lady wife giving him a son or daughter?"

Diana frowned at that, between battles and strong winds, ravens were taking longer and longer to arrive to their destinations, and riders often found themselves under guest right and scrutiny as they road to deliver messages in keeps. Lynda Lannister, formerly Lynda Whent was heiress to Harrenhal, but a slip of a girl. House Whent had troubles keeping heirs and spares alive, a fact cemented by Catelyn's own mother, Minisa Whent, who died attempting to bring young Edmure into the world after a series of still births between the two living daughters. Little Aemon played with a lock of his mother's silver hair, pulling on it slightly much to his mother's discomfort, he did not seem to understand why it was suddenly so short, not reaching her shoulders when it once spanned to the small of her back. If Lady Lynda were to give Daemon a son, would he look like little Aemon? After all, Aemon looks so much now as his brother did as a babe, only her elder son had greener eyes.

"Word has not yet come, but I have no doubt a rider will pass through Riverrun on his way to King's Landing to bear the good news." Diana replied diplomatically, and winced when Visenya squirmed on her hip, putting pressure on the nearly healed wound. She walked the halls as if she were made of steel, but Catelyn saw her resolve crack for a moment.

"Jeyne, take the prince and princess to the table, there is fruit and water for them." Lady Catelyn ordered, then paused for the Queen's approval. A single nod of the woman's head, and her children were whisked by the wet nurse to the table across the airy chambers they resided in.

Smiling tightly, Queen Diana sat down upon the chair that a servant brought in and placed next to Catelyn's bed. Resting her wrists against the arms of the large backed chair, Diana sunk into the soft leather. "I have brought you something, a birthing gift if you will." She clapped her hands and a man entered the room carrying a large wooden box, carved with leaping trouts on each corner and snarling wolves on each side. With a bow, the man placed the box next to Catelyn on the large bed, and Diana watched the young woman take in the piece of art before her. It was a hand painted trunk, with Stark and Tully colors decorating the sigils, large enough for her to store precious items, but not so heavy that she would not be able to lift it or put it on a table. Catelyn ran her hands over the smooth carvings, eyes widening in awe, "It's Weirwood bark."

"There is a belief of the Old Gods that the body of the Weirwood guards from evil. In the South, it is simply a superstition that letter boxes are lucky if they are made of Weirwood. When I was first wed, my lord husband presented me with a similar box to guard his letters to me in, and I have no doubt that Brandon has sent you many as well." Catelyn's blush confirmed Diana's theory, and she smiled, "Open the box."

Cat unlatched the box, grinning at the sight of the silver trout lock and lifted the lid. Inside was a small cape, the perfect size for a babe, lined with warm wolf's fur and silver with white and grey direwolves upon the hem, underneath was a larger bolt of cloth, that unravelled to reveal a large standard, meant to hang over the walls of a castle or atop a desk in a solar, a red wolf upon a silver field. Tears pricked Catelyn's eyes, "Your grace, I, I-" Her words faltered as her hand clasped over her mouth.

"I bore a similar standard as Lady of the Westerlands, and Lord Rickard rather liked the personal sigil," Diana leaned in, as if to whisper a secret, "He said, better they call her the red wolf than the silver fish." Both women laughed at the jape, and across the room, the nursemaid smiled as she took care of the youngest of the Queen's children. In but a week, it would be their first name day, and Diana's heart ached that her husband would miss the feasts in honor of such an occasion. Watching Catelyn nurse her babe made Diana's heart ache as she thought on her own five children, and that her sweet little twins would be the last babes she nursed and sewed clothing for.

Diana's mind went back to the stack of letters within her solar, needing to be read, and those she already had. ' _Jon Lannister'_ She thought with a smile, wondering if perhaps the name were short for something, Jonothor perhaps? The Queen thought herself too young to be a grandmother, but two of her boys were already wed with heirs to be, and her eldest daughter was already a widow. Part of her wished that little Torrhen were a girl, one who could be fostered in King's Landing and perhaps end up as Queen after Diana and Lyanna, binding the Riverlands and the North through blood to the Iron Throne. It was a mistake of her ancestors, inbreeding under the guise of blood purity, it left the dragons with no blood allies save for the Velaryons, and even they turned their back on Aerys's madness in favor of a few acres of extra land and a few ships, not to mention returning to the close bond with the throne that the Valyrian descendants once had. The previous non-Targaryen Queen was her grandmother, Lady Betha Blackwood, from a vassal house in the North, wed to a royal so far down the line of succession no one bat an eye, until Aegon the Unlikely was crowned as King. Diana understood her grandfather's plan for his children, though he plotted long before she was born, to unite the most powerful families through matrimony.

' _Two generations later, but Grandfather's plan is finally coming to fruiton.'_ She thought with a rueful smile, already houses Stark, Lannister, Tully and Baratheon were bound by matrimony, soon to be blood in the children produced. Diana was pulled from her thoughts by the sudden squeal of a child crying, and the pull in her chest confirmed it was from her own child. Little Visenya's face was bright red as she screamed, tears flowing down her chubby little cheeks. Diana sprung to her feet, wincing and clutching her side when she angered the wound but crossed the room to her child, ignoring the stinging pain.

"Oh, my little sunshine." She cooed softly, taking the child swathed in golden silks. When the children were born, Diana received bolts of soft, finely spun silks in the colors of the sun and the moon, gold and silver, from Lord Lucerys Velaryon, Alyssa Brax's older brother, and Diana knew the reason for such fine gifts for such young royals. Aemon and Visenya may not be close in the line of succession for the Throne, but for Casterly Rock and Dragonstone, the lines remained unclear. If Diana had it her way, Aemon would wed a daughter of Dorna Swyft and Kevan Lannister, securing Casterly Rock in the Lannister name, while Visenya wed a second or third son of house Velaryon, giving Dragonstone in her dowry the same way Lynda Whent gave Harrenhal to the Lannisters, while Alysanne could have her pick of newly made lords, ruling over a keep of her choosing.

Diana shushed her crying child, running her fingers through the head of golden curls upon her daugher, humming softly. As if sensing the comfort his twin was receiving, Aemon began to sniffle before breaking out in a wail of his own. "What's wrong, starshine?" She murmured, taking the boy from the nursemaid as well. Diana moved back to her seat, keeping both children upon her lap. Aemon played with the necklace she wore, a silver dragon with red rubies for eyes, while Visenya resumed toying with the loose locks of her mother's hair.

"They know who their mother is." Catelyn stated softly, smiling at the twins before looking down to her own child, who began to snore softly, his belly full of his mother's milk.

Diana grinned at the girl before her, pleased to see the Tully was as maternally inclined as Diana herself was. "They are my flesh and blood, the future of my house." A sadness seeped into her then, for she was the last dragon. Had Rhaella given birth to a healthy child, one with all their mother's grace and none of their father's madness? She prayed so to the Seven every night.

"Family, duty, honor." Catelyn replied, "The Tully words, your grace. Men say that duty comes first, others that their honor must trump everything else, but it is family, your grace. Before duty or honor, family comes first. We do our duty to our husbands, giving them the honor of continuing their house, but it is the family created there that is most important." Her water-blue eyes shone with a wisdom Diana did not expect from one so young, and she felt a kinship growing in that moment. For all that Tywin was concerned of the Lannister legacy, all Diana wished for was her children to be happy, loved and safe. So, in their own way, they worked towards the same goal, Tywin wished to wed his children into powerful houses for the sake of alliance, Diana for the protection her children would receive behind the large looming walls of a keep. She was not Baelor the Blessed, who tried to protect those she cared for by locking them in the walls of their ancestral home, rather she would play the great game, and gain alliances to keep her children safe and loved.

"You speak with the wisdom that can only come from the naivety of youth," Diana spoke after a moment, "Untainted by failure, it is a refreshing voice." In a way, Catelyn reminded her of Rhaella, mindful of family and duty above all. The Queen and the Lady of Winterfell sat in a comfortable silence with their children for a moment, enjoying the peace of the mid afternoon sunshine streaming streaming through the billowing curtains before the windowsills.

It was peaceful, resting for a moment in the silence. Yet all too soon broken by the doors to the chambers being swung open, revealing Sandor Clegane. His burned face made Catelyn look queasy, but Diana was unphased at the sight of her son in all but name. The knight huffed at the women before him before bowing quickly, "Your grace, there is a matter that requires your attention in the Dragonpit." A frown marred Diana's face, the ruins of the pit were almost unsalvageable, save for the very entrance, blackened by flame. Tywin wished to rebuilt the giant ruin and keep Brightfyre there, yet the more she read of dragons the more she was against it, a dragon did not do well in captivity. Giving a kiss to the top of each of her twins' heads, she passed them to the nurse with instructions to put them down in the nursery for their afternoon naps.

Catelyn bowed her head in respect to the Queen as she left the room, leaving the young mother and child to rest. "I shall send word to the seamstress that made my gown

The echo of Sandor's boots and the slip of Diana's soft, silk slippers were all that were heard for a moment as they walked the winding halls of the Red Keep. "Why are we going to the Dragonpit, Sandor?" Diana asked softly, unsure if her voice sounded more regally commanding or motherly in that moment.

The Hound did not reply, and Diana held back an indignant huff at his lack of response. The stitches in her side were nearly healed, but the Maester warned against anything strenuous, including running or riding horseback. Yet as they wound their way out of the Red Keep, there was no litter waiting to carry her up Rhaenys's hill, only a single large war horse that reminded Diana of Darkfyre, her old mount. "Your grace," Sandor said after a moment of Diana simply staring between him and the horse.

"Sandor, I am in no way dressed to ride a horse." Diana pointed out the obvious in that moment, but the knight simply wrapped his large hands around her small waist and with a small grunt, lifted her atop the horse and in front of the saddle pad. "Sandor!" There was a slight shriek to her voice, not that she would admit it.

"We're going to the top of the hill, your grace." Sandor barked with a laugh in his voice, "Not to the fucking Rock." Before she could snap at him, he was behind her on the horse, spurring the animal into action. Part of her knew that she should logically be afraid of being back on a horse, after she was thrown from one, but there was a part of her that knew it was not the horse's fault. But if it were not the mount, who was to blame? Diana was an excellent equestrian and enjoyed riding since she was a child, yet this was the first time she had ever been bucked off a horse.

"You could have at least given me my own horse, with my saddle." Diana huffed, thinking of her custom made saddle of boiled leathers with snarling lions and roaring dragons stitched into the material with extra padding upon the seat for her comfort, a name day present from Tywin years ago. Sandor said nothing in response, but she felt his chest heave with a sigh from behind her as they rode up the hill.

Sitting side saddle as to not rip her dress, she looked down upon the silver silk with a frown, it was sure to be filled with black scraps of hair from the horse when she dismounted. Slowly, the horse plodded up the large hill, second in size to Aegon's Hill where the Red Keep itself sat, and Diana felt like a child not trusted to ride on her own mount, and thus forced to ride with a guard. "You will not be riding a horse by yourself for a long while, your grace." Sandor's gruff voice replied, "Especially once the King hears word of your injury, his grace will no doubt send for a carriage to carry you about." There was a slight jape hidden in his words, although neither laughed at the joke.

"A wild horse and an inexperienced stablehand hardly call for drastic measures." Diana replied sourly, although her own voice betrayed the doubt in her words. Her memory of the horse was fuzzy, most likely from the head wound she received from the fall, but she remembered leaning into her saddle to urge the horse forward into a trot, only to have him reach a full gallop.

The Hound said nothing in response, and Diana cursed not being able to see his face, Sandor's eyes could hardly keep a secret under her gaze, yet his knuckles were white as he held the reigns. Slowly, the sun was overshadowed by looming figure of the Dragonpit and the blackened walls seemed to taunt her. How many dragons had lived and died behind these stones? With the dark cloak of the ruins before them, Diana dismounted before Sandor had a chance to and winced at the pulling of her stitched side, the Queen cursed under her breathe: "Seven hells." The Hound smirked in amusement at the curse, but said nothing as he tied the horse's reins to a lone tree to keep it from wandering. She was not dressed to be gallivanting about the dirt road, her silk slippers were bound to have holes in the soles when she returned to the keep. Hiking up her skirts as to not damage her new gown she made her way towards the ruined entrance that once held her ancestor's dragons, only to have Sandor gently take her arm. "Not that way, your majesty." His gruff voice murmured, and with a frown at the mud beginning to cake her skirts said, "Perhaps I should carry your grace."

Diana barked out a laugh, "I am old enough to be your mother, not Lady Jonquil being rescued by her fair Lord Florian." The Hound huffed at her reference to the ballad that seemed to be sung by the bards in court more often than he liked. "Although, I'm sure Lady Talla would be happy to play the part." Diana was hoping her pseudo son would blush, or growl out an insult as he did when he was embarrassed, but she was met with only a huff and a roll of his eyes.

"Lord Brax would skin me like a deer if I touched his only daughter, and no doubt his Lady would find me first, Lady Alyssa would scratch my eyes out as if she were a lioness herself, she surely learned how from you, my Queen." Sandor replied, attempting to jape but completely serious. Diana's heart bled, watching the anger cloak the young man. For the small fortune she had spent on healers and salves, his face remained horribly scarred, and no one would let the Clegane heir forget he was the Hound, Queen's favor or no. "No Lord would give his daughter for a bride to a dog."

"Sandor…" The hurt in his eyes mirrored her own, yet when she reached to comfort him as she did when he was a child, he denied her soothing touch and stomped forward.

"Come, my Queen, the Spider is waiting for us." Sandor walked with fast steps, and after a moment of pause, Diana followed him. The Spider? What did Varys want of her in the dragonpit? The sun loomed lazily over their heads, slowly sinking behind the hills as the shadows stretched and day became night. The reflections of figures slowly formed in the hollowed back of the dome, where the walls split open like a wound, revealing a man perfumed in silks and a soldier with armour of a snarling lion emblazoned on one arm brace, and a three headed dragon on the other, with a shield with a golden foot on a black field.

"Tywin!" Diana blurted, seeing the head of dark brown hair and kind, chocolate eyes. He would always be the little boy with sliced feet in Lannisport to her, even as a man grown and knighted. Her slippers were in tatters as she stumbled forward on the rocky grounds of the ruins they hid in as she closed the gap between them.

Tywin Surefoot grinned at his Lady and bent the knee before her, taking her hand in his to kiss her ring, "My Queen." His voice was filled with pride, and Diana realized that she had not seen her sworn shield in half a year, since before she was crowned Queen of the Seven kingdoms. Diana laughed with tears in her eyes as she returned his formal greeting with one of her own, flushing into a deep curtsy. "You are the Maiden made flesh." His voice was filled with awe, and the Queen held back a laugh, surely with her hair only a hand's length long and mud caking her skirts, she was a mess, but Tywin Surefoot's eyes were drawn to the sparkling golden crown the King commissioned for his Brightheart, of the golden lion with flames for a mane roaring over the bowing creatures that symbolized the great houses of the realm.

"I do love reunions." Varys simpered with a half smile, reminding those standing before him of his presence. "A shame this one was months in the making." The Spider smiled secretly at them then, the spice of his perfume causing Diana to crinkle her nose. Slowly, Tywin rose from his kneeling position to notice the shaking form of Sandor Clegane.

"You rat bastard," Sandor snarled, drawing his broad sword with a single swish, "I ought to gut your cowardly stomach and add your head to the gates of this keep!" The face of Ellyn Reyne, dipped in tar and hanging from the Lion's Mouth, pierced on a tooth of the stone creature as the sick pleasure she felt then, only for the face to be replaced by her Sworn Shield's own, and her temper flared.

"Stand down, Sandor." Diana growled with equal viciousness, only for the man to turn to her with a mixture of rage and confusion. "Ser Surefoot was on a mission on my orders."

"Was he ordered to leave you defenseless, when he himself was sworn to be your shield?" Sandor snarled, looking more hound than man in that moment, and Diana resisted the urge to flinch. "He left like a coward when you were almost burned alive!"

' _Fire cannot burn a dragon'_ The words echoed in her mind, so easy to use yet burning her tongue with the connotation within, the entitlement that brought the end of a dynasty of dragons. What was it the Bloodraven had called her, an untempered flame? Words burned just as well as fire, and she would show restraint. "Almost." Diana said instead, "I was almost burned alive." She spoke as if it were obvious, "Ser Tywin left King's Landing on my orders."

Sandor spun from where he stood ready to strike the knight and faced his Queen, shock on his face, "You ordered him to run like a coward?" The Hound stared at the woman, who looked caught in her own words.

"If you do not tell him now, he will find out." Varys interjected, "If Surefoot is not at your side, the Hound will be, his grace the King is very protective of his Queen." The pieces fell into place then, travelling to the Dragonpit at sunset with no one but Sandor. Had it been any other guard, the city watch would have stopped them, questioned the safety of the Queen riding out of the keep with a single protector. But the Clegane knight cast a looming shadow that few would dare cross, and the kingdoms waited for the official announcement of the Kingsguard, having no doubt Sandor would become one.

Diana glared at the Spider, she had half a mind to cross the dirt covered floor and slap the smug simpering grin off of his face. "I do not appreciate my trust being met with betrayal."

The Spider merely shrugged, "I am simply expanding the circle of those privy to such a secret, surely it is better for him to find out now rather than later." He turned with a flourish of long sleeves and faced the Hound, "A dog is loyal to his master, or mistress in this case. Tell me, Lord Sandor, are you loyal to the Brightheart, or the Royal Lion?" The title whispered by the smallfolk had reached full circle it seemed, for even the Spider called the king by the name.

Sandor growled at the Spider, "My oath of fealty is to house Lannister, my sword promised to protect it's Lady." His brown eyes flashed with pain for a moment as he looked upon Diana, bending his knee the way Tywin Surefoot had but a moment before, "I have served the Brightheart long before she was a Queen, and I shall serve her with the life I owe to her."

"You are quite a collector, my Queen." Varys tittered, "A dog, a foot, and a dragon, you surely guard yourself with interesting pieces as you play the game."

"Dragon?" Tywin Surefoot intervened, confusion coloring his face, "The shiphands spoke of a Dragon Queen, but I had chalked it up to the sigil of your ancestral house." His face darkened for a moment as he thought of the red scaled egg the Lady of the Westerlands refused to leave her keep without, and the whispers of the servants of the Rock, who spoke of blood magic and dark fires. "The prophecy, the one you've obsessed yourself with for years, the one that killed Aegon the Unlikely."

"The Andal Divine bleeds Valyrian blood for the First Men," Varys recited, "It has been whispered from Assiah to Last Hearth, the prophecy of birthing a dragon, but King Aegon wished for the dragon to have his prince that was promised."

"I shall take you to meet Brightfyre soon." Diana promised, her fists turning white as she held her skirts in a vice-like grip, "But for now, tell me of my sister."

"Ashes in the Great Sept." Sandor replied coldly, although he looked remorseful at the sight of Diana's wince at his words.

Tywin Surefoot grit his teeth at the dog before him, and from his satchel produced a portrait, the size of his forearm, of a small family. Diana closed the small distance between them as Sandor rose from his kneeling position to get a better look at what had caused such a reaction in the Queen. Diana gripped the portrait, staring with tears slowly forming. Rhaella had hair as purple as her eyes, holding a babe but a few months old in a golden yellow gown, with purple eyes as lemon colored hair. Ser Barristan had hints of grey in his bright yellow head of hair, but looked so at ease with his arm around her sister, and a babe he could call his own.

"My friend in Pentos tell me Ser Tywin was very insistent on returning with a portrait of the happy family." Varys drawled, mirth dancing in his tone. "They have settled well across the Narrow Sea."

"Queen Rhaella is alive." Sandor spoke after a moment of wide eyed silence, glancing between the Queen, the Spider and the knight. "She and her baby lived."

"I have a niece." Diana confirmed, her awe and joy evaporating as she looked at Sandor. "You must tell no one, Sandor. My Tywin will hunt any Targaryen that threatens his Lannister legacy." Rhaella was her sister, but Tywin Lannister is her husband, the father of her children, the sword that protected her through any threat, and she loved him more than anyone else, save her children.

"She has a claim to the throne, as does any children she has or will has." Sandor was no fool, and Diana knew that years under her tutelage had given him the same education that was given to her own sons and fellow ward, Brandon Stark. The Clegane was heir to but a one tower keep and a few acres outside of Lannisport, but given the education of a future Lord Paramount under Diana's orders. He knew the stakes of the game Diana played.

"Rhaella has no wish for a crown or a throne that has brought her nothing but suffering, being a royal killed her sons, she will not risk the same fate of her daughter." Diana defended, cursing the Spider in her mind for revealing the truth to Sandor.

"And if her daughter craves the throne you have robbed her of?" Sandor challenged, causing Varys to titter with a laughing smile, "Your father put out the last Blackfyre rebellion, and here you wish to start another."

"Then I will give it to her." Diana said simply, causing the three men to stare at her agape. "Should the girl grow to be a true dragon, a _mother of dragons,_ I will betroth her to my grandson, Jon." She cast a knowing look to Varys, who simply smiled and nodded his head minutely.

Prophesies ruled over house Targaryen, it seemed, for Diana's latest reading obsession had been a book of recorded premonitions given by seers who had accurate predictions in the past, and there was a section devoted to the Prince that was Promised. ' _From the line of Aerys and Rhaella, born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star.'_ Too many mouths had whispered of the Long Night, and the prince needed to defeat it. After the nightmare of the Night's King's hand around her throat, Diana was almost desperate to stop her dream from coming true.

"You would reveal your treason to the King?" Ser Tywin asked with large eyes, "He would kill us all."

"He would take a dragon for a dowry." Diana affirmed, "And it will be many years before the girl bleeds, what is her name?" She turned to her sworn shield, realizing she did not even know what to call her blood.

"The Lady wished to name her Daenerys, but the Lord thought it would cause whispers, so they settled on the name Dany." Tywin Surefoot informed them, causing Diana to smile. Rhaella was always the diplomatic one, and the previous Daenerys Targaryen had helped to end the stalemate with Dorne and bring them into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms.

Sandor still looked less than pleased, and Diana took a deep breath, playing the only card she knew to in that moment, "Your sister, Lady Elaine, the Castillion of Clegane Keep tells me she has grown into a lovely woman, talented in singing and music." Diana stared at her ward, a man grown and protective of the sister he left behind when he travelled to the Rock, she was but a babe then, yet now a little lady of eleven. "You have no wish for a Lady wife, but your sister will need to be wed, she is your heir after all."

"Let her have the Keep." Sandor spat, "The place is cursed, they say the echoes of my brother's screams echo the halls, that Gregor's hands grip the servants in their sleep, I have no wish to return there."

"An heiress on her own, without kin or husband to protect her?" Diana questioned, "The neighboring lords will seize the land as their own, there are few guards and less gold to pay them in the Clegane coffers." She leveled him with an even stare, "House Jast has lands sharing borders with your family's, those with noble blood and a Lord with two sons, an heir and a spare, the latter the age of thirteen, should you agree to keep quiet about my sister's life, I shall betroth your sister and the Jast spare, and give them additional lands from the unclaimed Tarbeck land." Diana calculated her moves carefully, Lady Jast was from a minor Lannister branch, and Lord Jast's mother was a Tarbeck, if Diana recalled correctly.

"If Elaine finds him worthy of being her Lord husband, I shall not inform the king." Sandor vowed, glaring at Ser Tywin one last time before he moved to leave, "I need some fucking wine."

The looming shadow of the Hound dissipated, and Diana turned to Varys. "I hope you enjoyed your power play, do it again and I shall gut you myself." She snarled to the Spider, who simply bowed and simpered.

"It was for the good of the realm, your grace." He claimed, a knowing smile causing rage to fill Diana.

She held her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of the ire that overtook her words in her youth, she refused to let him win. "I expect to hear of how the family settles, and reports thrice a year, coded in High Valyrian." Diana walked away from the ruins of the dragonpit as both men bowed to their Queen, and she plotted her next steps in playing the great game.

A/N:

So, I did not mean for it to be this long, and I didn't even get to Alysanne, so that will be next chapter. I can't help but laugh at myself for saying this fic would be over soon, as there is so much stuff left to fill in before the sequel, so this is heading towards a hundred chapter fic.

Please review and tell me what you guys think of the plotting. I am not sure on where I want to take a few plot points, so if you ever see one character plotting one thing and another the opposite, it's because I haven't decided on which one will play out yet, so please review if you like a suggested pairing or musing.


	77. Chapter 77

Alysanne sat in the shade of the garden quickly being called the Dragon's Den, for it was in the great stretch of foliage that Brightfyre had relocated himself. The ever growing dragon did not like to be cooped up, and once the opened room he slept in as a hatchling grew too small, he flew himself to Good Queen Alysanne's garden and made a nest atop of what once was a great rose bush before he burned it to a crisp with a puff of flame and lay himself upon it. Watching her mother's dragon, Aly was amused to see the dog like characteristics in the beast, the way he spun his body around and around before laying in his newly made nest. It felt strange to be there, with Brightfyre. As a maiden, she spent so many hours in this garden, as it was promised to be hers. King Jaehaerys had given the large chunk of land on the far side of Aegon's hill to his sister and bride, who cultivated it into an arena of blooming flowers with sections of fruit trees, herbs and vegetables on the far side. The garden was designed by the good queen herself, who after seeing the Water Gardens of Dorne wished to feed the smallfolk with the beauty of her garden in a similar fashion.

What once held the laughter of servant's children climbing trees how was quiet save for the rustle of the wind. It was not as it was a hundred years ago, when the sight of a dragon brought awe and wonder to the faces of the small folk, now it brought fear. Brightfyre was growing rapidly, and would be ready to be mounted within the next moon for flight, and already caught and cooked his own meals. She had not informed her mother yet of Brightfyre's movements, of his growing restlessness. When the Queen fell from her horse, the dragon had flown to her side, and was positively feral at the sight of anyone else. Perhaps the beast sensed what Alysanne saw when the rogue horse was finally captured, the saddle with cuts on the side. Her mother had an ostentatious saddle of gold, with soft leather straps to keep it on the horse, yet when the servants finally calmed the horse enough to return him to the stables, the saddle was flung further than her mother had been, the straps cut just enough to weaken themselves over time, and open to small shards of metal that would cut into the steed's sides the harder she rode him, and guilt plagued the girl at the memory of inviting her mother to race her.

The stable hand who was a familiar face had been found after the Queen's wounds had been tended to, the lad was but twelve and his body was found drowned in the sea by the port, or so Varys told her. His little birds seemed to be at every turn, and she never was completely sure she was alone any more. Thus, she had made a habit while her mother rested to visit the dragon at least once a day, surely no spy would be bold enough to enter a dragon's den? Brightfyre did not seem to mind her presence, perhaps she was visually similar enough to her mother that he knew they were family, or perhaps the dragon simply knew she posed no harm. ' _Maester Lucerys wrote of familial bonds in dragons.'_ She thought, remembering the heavy tomb that remained in her room. Dragons formed pack relationships, called clutches if she remembered correctly, with an alpha to lead them, and knew when to submit and when to challenge for authority, did Brightfyre view her as one of his own clutch? He did after all, submit to her commands when her mother was injured. ' _A dragon can only have one rider, one alpha.'_ She thought to herself, staring at the bright crimson scales of the great beast before her.

Brightfyre had curled himself on the charred remains of his bush, smouldering embers keeping him warm as he dozed. He was already bigger than the carriage that Alysanne had ridden into King's Landing in, and growing larger by the day. Already, the dragon knew to fly over the waves of Blackwater Bay, scooping up schools of fish in his mouth. Earlier in the day, Aly had watched him with rapt fascination as he returned with his bounty of flopping fish, dropping them from his jaws and onto the ground, only to char them with his flames and rip into them with his teeth. With her set of parchment and pencils, she sketched the beast feast with careful hands. Ever since she was a child, Alysanne loved to draw. Her mother and the other ladies of the court drew pictures on cloth as they embroidered, but Aly did not have the patience to poke at things with string. Instead, she enjoyed staring at the beauty of the kingdoms around her, and she wanted to commit them so wholly to memory that they would live forever as a breath of time upon a page.

Her heart hurt as she scribbled, thinking of the fine artist's set that Aunt Rhaella had given her, the coal pencils with dragonglass casings carved with snarling fire breathing beasts, and the canvases meant to be hung with grand portraits upon them. Her once aunt and good mother treated the girl well once she wed the prince, the ire born of Alysanne's looks, that of her mother when she was a girl, had died with the wedding vows it seemed. When Rhaegar was distant, his mother took her in, and Aly had wept just as hard for the loss of the Queen as Diana, and more so than she had for Rhaegar.

Picking up the red pencil imported from Lys, she filled in the scales of the dragon, etching in the grooves. _Had anyone ever watched a dragon grow from a hatchling and bothered to document it?_ She thought to herself, and the ever growing stacks of doodles of Brightfyre she had collected. The books she read spoke to when they hatched and to whom they were loyal to, but never the exact size or image, simply the markings they possessed. She made a mental note to ask for a Maester to be sent from the Citadel to help her keep records and study the beast. All her life, Alysanne had been promised to be a dragon princess, yet now all she wished to be was a princess with a dragon.

Brightfyre finished his small feast and turned his head to look at her, huffing a small puff of smoke onto her face. Aly smiled at the beast, holding up her finished portrait of the dragon mid-chew, "Well, what do you think?" Her teasing voice asked rhetorically.

"A perfect picture, your grace." A voice replied, and Brightfyre blinked slowly at the new arrival. He was a squire, by his age and livery, with a brown tunic with white seagulls and a pin with a falcon upon his breast. The boy was but twelve, perhaps thirteen, and carried a sealed letter within his hand. His hands were shaking slightly, making it hard to distinguish the seal upon the blue wax.

"I thank you, Ser." Aly replied, knowing fully well the boy before her was not knighted, but enjoyed seeing the blush upon his face. "Brightfyre will not harm you, little lord, he is my mother's mount and loyal to her above all else." The lies slipped off her tongue like honey, she had no idea how the dragon would react.

The squire quickly bowed and kissed the princess's ring before presenting her with the letter, sealed with a soaring falcon. Alysanne schooled her face into a neutral one before she broke the seal, ever aware of little birds whispering in the Spider's ear. Two days before, Tywin Surefoot had returned to court without a word of why he was gone, and her mother accepted back home as if it were Jaime returning from war, complete with a modest feast and a toast to the Surefoot. Whispers abound about where the Queen's sworn shield left to, had the torture under King Aerys proved too much for him? Or perhaps he fled to curry favor with the new king, desperate to make up for allowing his wife to be captured by the mad predecessor? Either way, the Queen had allowed her sworn shield back into court without blinking an eye, and it enraged Alysanne. She had known the man since she was a child, watched him spar with her brothers in the training arena, even fancied him for a time in her youth as a fine knight, yet now all she saw was a coward clinging to Queen Diana's skirts. Lord Varys whispered into many ears, and smiled coyly at her when she asked him to look into where the sword shield had disappeared to. ' _Surefoot would cross the Seven Hells and back if your Queenly mother asked it of him, perhaps you should question her of it. Although, your eyes should be pointed towards the East, not the past.'_ His words seemed so strange to her then, yet staring at the squire and the sealed letter before her, it all clicked into place. ' _The Vale of Arryn,'_ Aly thought to herself, ' _This squire is a Shett.'_

Years of lessons on the great houses of the seven kingdoms, and the land of the Vale was the hardest for her to learn. The Northern houses came in second to the houses of the East, simply because there were so many. It was by dumb luck that she recognised the flying seagulls as a house sigil, mainly because she remembered laughing about it as a child. ' _Father, we are the lions of Lannister, fierce and noble and brave.'_ She had told him, earning a pleased nod from the Lord of the West, who reminded her that sigils were used to show the might of a house, ' _Then why would they choose seagulls as their sigil? The only frightening thing about them is when they fly overhead at Lannisport, one pooped on Jaime!'_ Aly could not help but giggle at the memory, and the thought of her father's surprised chuckle.

The squire quirked his eyebrow at the princess, but said nothing as she finally broke the seal. "My lord instructed me to stay and allow your grace to write a reply." He shuffled on his feet, glancing over to the lounging dragon with trepidation.

"You may wait outside the gardens, if your prefer." She told him, and watched his shoulders sag in relief as he scurried away. Alone once more, she returned to her sitting position before the beast, and cracked the seal.

 _To the lovely lioness, Alysanne Lannister, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms,_

 _Dearest princess, I could barely believe my eyes when my Lord Uncle's raven was delivered. No doubt the royal host is marching to the Red Keep as I write this, well on their way to you, my beloved. I hope you are most pleased with this match, princess, and I swear upon the Maiden herself to treat you as deserving of a lady of your station. Together, as Lord and Lady of the Vale, we will unite the houses under the Arryn banner, and our children will restore the name of my house to it's former glory._

 _I have sent my squire, Yohan Shett, to deliver this letter on our fastest horse, in hopes that it might reach you in your time of need. The prince did not deserve such a lovely maiden, and I vow to be a better husband than he ever was._

 _Yours, now and forever more,_

 _Denys Arryn_

Alysanne's hands shook as she tore the letter in a fit of rage. This was her mother's doing, she had no doubt. Queen Diana was quickly being heralded as a matchmaker throughout the Seven kingdoms, quick to pair off nobles from different lands as a way to keep wartime bloodshed to a minimum. ' _She sold me like chattel to the Vale!'_ Yet she knew the Lord of the Vale was an old man, Jon Arryn, with no sons or daughters of his own, so why did she know the name Denys Arryn? Her mind flashed back to the tourney celebrating her brother's betrothal to the Whent girl, Lady Lynda, whom she had only heard good things of but had never met, and the melee that followed the joust. ' _The Darling of the Vale.'_ The title made her nose crinkle, it sounded like the title of a small child, not a knighted heir.

Tucking her pencils and sketchbook under her arm, she nodded tersely at Brightfyre, who seemed to look on in amusement at her plight. With a swirl of soft silks, she left the gardens within the Red Keep, the red behind her eyes guiding her to her mother. ' _Little Lioness, father called me. Well, let them both hear me roar.'_

A/N:

Alysanne has no idea who is plotting what, hence the assumption here. I thought it would be interesting to see it play out. Also, the new GoT trailer is life, although the quote at the end should have been spoken by Arya and not Sansa (both of whom will be in the sequel fic by the way).

Also, I feel like an idiot for saying X amount of chapters left before the sequel, because I realized how much ground work I need to lay. This fic will carry on until the aftermath of the rebellion is gone through, the sequel will have a prologue talking about the Greyjoy Rebellion, and then the sequel fic starts a few years after that.

Next chapter: Diana's dragon dreams, Alysanne's betrothal, and an unexpected death.


	78. Chapter 78

Diana clutched the letter closely to her chest as she read it, ever wary of other's eyes reading the words. Tywin sent his soldiers marching while he took the royal fleet sailing towards Blackwater Bay, the fastest route available considering the size of their remaining host. He wrote from Evenstar Hall, an island off Shipbreaker bay, that he and his party enjoyed the hospitality of the Lord and his daughter, the man's sole heir. ' _Servants call her 'Brienne the Beauty' when they think no one is listening, though she reminds me of your hound, Ser Sandor.'_ Tywin's words gained her curiosity, for he seemed to be plotting even more than her as of late, and no doubt the poor heiress was an ugly woman to garner the nickname beauty in jest.

The battered letter arrived on the wing of an injured raven, leaving no way to accurately predict the King's arrival. So Diana had ordered that the guest chambers be prepared for a guest at any time, and that the newly-made royal apartments be ready for their king to inhabit them. With Tywin waging war, Diana focused herself on the Red Keep and the Small folk the same way she had when she was a newly minted Lannister. The Queen refused to sleep in what was once the chambers of the Royal family, mainly because the King's chambers still held the strong scent of the tonics Aerys was fond of, while the chambers normally housed by the Queen still held the lilac scent of Rhaella's perfume, something Diana could not smell without tears falling from her eyes. Instead, Diana dipped into the overflowing royal treasury to refurbish a large portion of Maegor's Holdfast, reinforcing the castle-within-the-castle with thick, heavy doors and taking the smaller rooms that resided on the upper floors facing the sea and breaking down the walls, leaving the nearly three dozen chambers as half a dozen large, interconnected suites.

The newly made chambers for the King included the traditional twin hearths (newly built into the rooms) with a dressing chamber, bed chamber, small hall and solar, each room bedecked with prancing golden lions and traditional Lannister colorings. The bed was large enough to sleep five grown men side to side with soft feathers and half a dozen pillows, a large roaring lion decorating the covers while the windows held shades of crimson and gold to keep the sun out. The large double doors down the hall that held the King's chambers held behind them Diana's personal chambers, rooms that would hold her good daughter when she was crowned Queen one day. The Queen's royal chambers sat the bend of the Keep, so that when the King's rooms ended, the Queen's began. The bedroom was equal in splendor, with banners decorating the walls, a lion roaring fire, the might of Casterly Rock reflected against the sea, a mighty red dragon soaring through the skies. She had set aside a few tapestries for Tywin to choose from to decorate his own room with, while Diana ordered the ones she chose to be hung. Her dressing chamber was slightly larger, holding her ever growing wardrobe, while her personal solar opened up to a large balcony, overlooking the entirety of the Red Keep. It had been built outward in the months Diana controlled the Keep while Tywin fought the war, large and meant to hold thousands of pounds in weight. The balcony was large and sprawling, with only two entrances, one from each of the royal solars, and sat nestled at the highest point of the castle, making the area a secluded place where one could look down upon the capital, without anyone being able to look up upon the area. The dragonpit was no place for Brightfyre, she knew, but the royal balcony would be able to hold him for the next few moons at least, until a more permanent home could be found for her dragon. With the king and queen's chambers prepared, Diana turned her attention to that of the princes' and princesses'. Already, the rooms across the hall from the Queen's chambers were being suited as the royal nursery, where Aemon and Visenya would stay until they were old enough for their own rooms, as well as little Jon. While larger bedrooms with antechambers for her elder children were made ready, flushed with their house colors and personal effects. Jaime's was large enough for himself and his lady wife, while Alysanne's contained a large dressing chamber and a splendid view of the sea. Diana's heart warmed at the thought of meeting her grandchild, and her thoughts drifted to Jaime's letter of his son. He made no mention of coloring, and she idly wondered if he had inherited more of his father's Andal and Valyrian looks, or his mother's first men build. Did little Jon have Stark eyes, or the long face, or perhaps a strong Lannister jaw?

She walked into the nursery, running her fingers over the three cribs that lay within, only two being used. Tomorrow would mark the young twin's first name day, complete with a joust and three days of feasting, and she prayed to the Mother that her youngest children continue to flourish. Already, Aemon learned his first word, and constantly shouted, "No!" to anything and anyone near him, while Visenya giggled but continue to babble nonsense. The babes were off with their Septa, playing with other noble children in the gardens.

Fidgeting with the blankets within the cradles, Diana did not expect the doors to the nursery to fling open, revealing Tywin Surefoot attempting to restrain her eldest daughter. "Ser Tywin, what is the meaning of this?" She asked with a hint of fury in her tone. Alysanne was enraged, her hair falling from it's twisted braid with every attempt to get out of Tywin's grip. Her face was red and her eyes narrowed as she pushed and pulled in the sworn shield's arms.

"You lied to me!" She ground out, lilac eyes alight with fury. "You promised I would choose my husband and yet the falcon lord wishes to nest with me!"

The color drained from Diana, her already light skin flushing white as she imagined Jon Arryn with his arms around her daughter. He was of age with Diana's father, although without the sickly look that graced King Jaehaerys the Second during his short rule. "Who said you were promised to Lord Arryn?"

Alysanne said nothing, only throwing a crumpled letter towards her mother's face. Diana scrambled to catch the parchment, and found her fears confirmed at the sight of the broken falcon seal. Her eyes scanned the words, reaching the end to find the Darling of the Vale's signature. There was only one man alive with the power to choose the heir of the Vale, the lord with the weaker claim at that, Tywin Lannister. Diana felt her hands shaking with rage, red closing her sight. "My Queen?" Ser Surefoot asked softly, remembering the last time he saw his charge with such a gaze, when Gregor Clegane lost his hands to the fire.

"You sold me like cattle!" Alysanne raged, "You chose any lord you wished, just as your father chose to wed his sister, and his father chose to wed a lady from a vassal house! Yet I am to be wed without choice of groom, not once but twice!"

Aly had inherited the Targaryen temper, and the ammount of herself Diana saw in her child made her unsure whether to be thanking or cursing the seven over such a fact. "Alysanne, every lady must do her duty and marry a great lord. Has your Septa neglected to teach you this lesson?" Diana lashed out at her daughter before catching herself and taking a shuddering breath, "I will speak to your father, but if it has been announced to the realm, there is little I can do."

"Little you can do?" Alysanne echoed, sputtering with disbelief, her arms thrown to the side with such abandon that Tywin Surefoot even flinched. "You are the Queen of the Seven fucking kingdoms!"

"Alysanne, language!" Diana chided, instinctually mothering. Yet it only enraged her daughter further, causing her to groan in exasperation. "I cannot simply undermine your father, I may be the Queen, but he is the king!"

"And I am your daughter!" Alysanne snarled in response, and Diana recoiled as if she had been slapped. "Not a pawn in your game! You wed Daemon to a stranger, I will not do the same!"

The Queen thought back to when she last saw her second son, when he rode to wed Lynda Whent, an heiress he had never laid eyes on. When her youngest babes were but newborns, yet tomorrow they would turn a year, it felt as if it were a lifetime ago. So much had happened in that year, including a month she buried so deep in the pit of her mind so she would never have to think of it again, the weeping sound of her daughter as she swore false vows to be her brother's bride, the bruises, the fire that birthed her dragon, the look of horror and hardness of Tywin's face when he thought her dead. Never again would Diana allow herself to be a pawn in the great game, she was Queen now, and the Queen's duty was to protect her King, even at the cost of a rook. With steel in her spine, Diana looked through her daughter to where Lannister Soldiers protected the doors to the royal suites. "Princess Alysanne will remain in her new chambers until her kingly father returns."

She moved without giving her eldest daughter a second glance, despite her screaming and protests. It reminded Diana of when her grandfather died, and she was wild with grief. Pity weighed on her as she masked her emotions and glided from the nursery, the soldiers moving to escort a huffing Alysanne into her new chambers. All she wanted in that moment was a strong glass of Arbor Red and a good cry, yet when she entered her chambers, Sandor Clegane burst into the room as well. "Ships your grace, spotted heading into the Blackwater, bearing the royal banner."

Diana blinked in surprise, perhaps Aly would not be locked in her chambers for long. Her heart soared as she gathered her skirts in her hands, "Prepare my horse, and summon servants to dress the young prince and princess to be ready to greet their royal father, and tell the kitchens to prepare a welcome feast and break out the finest casks of wine and-" She walked quickly through the halls listing demands when a page boy bowed quickly to her and waited expectantly. "Yes?" She asked with a hint of annoyance, Tywin was home, she needed to be with him!

"Y-your grace." The boy sputtered slightly, taking in her silver hair and golden gown, "The knight of the Rivergate ordered me to bring word, the P-prince...his royal highness...Prince Daemon is arriving with a small retinue." Unsure of the correct wording, the boy faltered.

' _Daemon?'_ She thought to herself, ' _He would have sent word, did his wife give him an heir that he has come to present to court?'_ Then again, he could have easily, but ravens were few and far between as of late, often shot down in the war or injured on their journey.

"My Queen, I have already ordered the men to prepare your litter." Sandor broke in, grinding his teeth slightly, and Diana remembered his warning that she would not be riding a horse for some time. "Should they take you to the Rivergate or the docks?"

"The docks, my husband and my heir are there as well as my new good daughter and my first grandchild." Diana decided, beginning to walk again. "The ship will arrive before a retinue of horses."

"Yes your grace." Sandor replied, and moved to shoo the page boy away.

"Go to the kitchens, and tell the cook to prepare a grand feast." She told the boy, realizing that Sandor would likely follow her with her sworn shield, wary of threats as of late. "And tell her to give you a strawberry tart, Queen's orders." With a wink she sent the boy away and smiled ruefully, if only her daughter was still appeased with sweets.

A/N:

Eyyy, the family is back together next chapter! But why is Daemon there? I'll give you a hint, the curse of Harrenhal.

Next chapter:

-Diana and Tywin discuss Alysanne's betrothal

-The court meets Prince Jon

-draaama

Also, just for kicks, I started working on a side project, _A Pact of Ice and Fire_ which is Night's King/OC/Rhaegar


	79. Chapter 79

It was just like how he imagined his return from war to be, basking under the afternoon sun atop his newest war horse (he had lost three through the war), relishing in the roar of the small folk as they cheered the nobles return. To his left, was Steffon Baratheon, a man he had half a mind to name to name his Hand, while the now one-eyed Jon Arryn rode to his left. His former ward rode with his son and other heroes of war their own age, and Tywin noted the dark look the Blackfish kept giving the young Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger as he was known. The weasel of a man had let Jaime take the credit for slaying Arthur Dayne, rather than allowing it be known that the Sword of the Morning was killed with a slash to the back, the story of the young lion and the falling star quickly became a favorite for the bards to sing of. Tywin had promised the young man a small mountain of gold for his act of discretion, and he would pay in full from the lushly overfilled coffers of the royal treasury. Aerys, while mad as a hatter, was rather shrewd in his finances, and before he began to burn his nobles, he taxed them heavily.

Tywin rode at the front of the large retinue, preening silently under the roar of the crowd as his horse led him closer to the keep he now called his own, where atop Aegon's Hill, his wife and children waited. It had been months since he last saw his pretty wife, and the image of her triumphant grin as she spun in their chambers, crown glinting in the light as she basked in the glow that was queenship, kept his bed and thoughts warm as he fought and killed his way back to her. He missed his wife, though he never voiced it, keeping his face neutral save for the barest hint of a smile. The crowd seemed to renew their shouts with vigor from both ends, and Tywin was surprised to see the sources of the sounds. From the entrance to the Red Keep, an open backed litter rose from the gate, the forms of Tywin Surefoot and Sandor Clegane flanking the sides, where the glinting figure of his Queen rode, hair and crown catching the light, causing her to glow, while the edge of the path that held the ship they disembarked from lay the Lady Lyanna, snubbing the summoned carriage for the horse that she had ridden until they cut across the sea on their return to the capital, the crimson sash about her middle indicating that little Prince Jon was swaddled against her chest. ' _Lady Lyanna!' 'The Brightheart!' 'The Wolf Princess!' 'Bright Queen!'_ The shouts were deafening, and while his wife preened under it, Lyanna looked spooked, not expecting such a reaction from the smallfolk. Suppressing a grin, he listened to the Bard that stood with a hat at his feet, and threw a coin in as he passed, causing the minstrel to kick up his tune.

"The lion roared so mighty fierce, against those who stood in his way, for his wolf lady, the dragon he would slay~" The man sung loudly as the people cheered, and he bowed with a flourish. Tywin continued the twisting climb to where his wife rode to meet him, and enjoyed the sounds of the small folk. It was a stroke of genius Diana had turned him onto years ago, garnering the love of the people through small acts of kindness, or pity, as well as the hiring of entertainers to tell the story one wished to be told, no matter what the truth actually held. It was a drop in the bucket of his wealth to fund the bards, mummers and minstrels and from the sounds of the crowd, it had paid off rather well.

"Tywin!" Both he and the sworn shield turned the source of the voice, seeing his wife leaning her torso out the small window of her litter, silver hair and golden crown glowing like her smile as she drank him in. Only she could refer to him with such informality, and her cheek caused him to grin for the barest moment before he schooled his face into neutrality.

"Queen Diana." The smile in his voice was unmistakable, and she preened under his gaze. They shared a long, deep stare, though he did not overlook the grim face that Sandor seemed to be giving. He rode beside his wife's litter, and the procession stopped as the crowd gazed at the king and queen, reunited at last.

Before the gates of the keep, Tywin opened the door to where his wife sat, and he laughed softly at the squeal of delight she gave as he pulled her from her seat and onto his horse. She winced as he pulled her flush against him on his saddle, and he frowned as she masked her discomfort quickly with an appeasing smile. Her lips met his quickly before he spurred his horse forward. She nuzzled into his chest with a loving smile, her lilac eyes bright with joy. "I have missed you, lord husband." Ever the proper lady, he chuckled as they continued their ride. Inside the inner gates, the nobles of court waited to greet the returning party, with Rickard and Ned Stark with his betrothed, Elia Martell, standing at the forefront. The girl that his wife once called sickly and plain had blossomed into a rather fetching woman, all Dornish beauty without the roughness of the sandy people. Her brown eyes looked upon the second son of Rickard Stark with a warmness he recognised in his own lady wife's eyes, when they were first falling in love. It had been nearly twenty years since then, yet the soft, hidden glances were unmistakable. Perhaps Diana was a better matchmaker than he gave her credit for.

He huffed softly as Diana squirmed from her place atop his saddle, her gaze staring behind them where their heir sat atop his own horse. "Jaime has become a man while at war." She murmured, only soft enough for him to hear, "A lord in his own right, with a lady wife and child of his own."

"A bastard son and a wife wed before a hearts tree." Tywin growled, and was rewarded with his wife's stern grip upon his thigh, a warning squeeze, it seemed. The fire that he had feared once to be burned away forever by her brother seemed to have been merely tempered, for the red hot rage in her eyes was unmistakable, even as her mouth smiled and her hands waved to the nobles as they finished their entrance into the Red Keep and onto Maegor's Holdfast.

They were both silent until it was time to dismount from the horse, and he waved both Sandor and Surefoot aside as they moved to assist their queen. Tywin took great pride in the hush that fell over the courtyard as all eyes turned to watch their heroic king, freshly victorious from battle as he assisted his queen with dismounting the horse they rode through the city together on. His hands rested on her hips, the soft velvet a welcome change from the boiled leathers he had worn on his own flesh as of late, and with one graceful swoop, Diana was standing by his side, eyes alight with a mixture of emotions he could not quite pin down: joy, rage, relief, fear, all one after another, flickering like a flame in her pupils.

Yet she had surprised the entirety of court as her skirts dipped to the floor and she curtsied so deeply before him he was sure her dress would be caked in the mud and muck of the floor from the large party entering. Her head dipped as her crown glinted in the light, and slowly, the rest of those gathered followed their queen and sure enough, every soul gathered had dismounted their horse and bowed before the king. After a beat of silence, the swish of velvet broke the revery, and Diana stood tall and proud before him. "Welcome home, King Tywin, champion of the realm." Her voice echoed, "The Seven Kingdoms, united under the banner of Lannister, shall rise into a new era, the age of the Lion!"

The soldiers that rode, fought and bled next to their lords and king cheered, and Tywin did not miss the strike of ire in his wife's face as the crowd shouted the name the small folk had given him, "The Stranger's Sword!" they called, followed by the lighter, kinder names, "The Royal Lion!" "King Tywin!" "The Lion King!" While his pretty wife enjoyed using propaganda in their favor, there were simply things she could not prevent, such as the monikers that associated him with the Stranger himself. Not that Tywin was complaining of course, the names helped to throw a dash of fear into the pride and adoration that Diana was used to commandeering since she was a child. If anything, it was slightly amusing to watch his wife, who worked so hard to ensure that she was beloved, see that her husband was constantly likened unto death personified. Tywin found it most amusing to see how the light that radiated from his wife also served to cast a dark shadow over Tywin, the shield serving to make the sword more threatening.

He escorted Diana by the arm, listening to the buzz of servants as they raced to prepare a feast. They moved to where the Northernmen that remained in the capital stood, and he was pleased to note the color had returned to Rickard's grim face, and that Ned only walked with a slight limp, one that would heal completely over time. The Warden of the North nodded his head in respect to the king, but glanced over his shoulder, eyes lingering on the form of his daughter and grandson. "We share a grandson," Diana echoed his thoughts as she grinned conspiratorially, turning to where her son lead both his bride and child towards them. Jaime had all the pomp and swagger that he had ridden to war with, but the rage within him over Lyanna's kidnapping had been smoothed over into a calmness that seemed only complete when he saw his newly minted family.

The Lady Lyanna herself looked to be simply relieved, her grey eyes watery with tears as she saw her father and second brother, "Father! Ned!" Mud caked her skirts as she did not bother to lift them as she ran, closing the gap between herself and her blood, racing into the arms of her kin. There was a softness that passed over Rickard's face as he held his daughter, the hardened mask slipping for but a moment as he rested his chin upon his daughter's head, taking in the scent of blue roses that clung to the girl as he held her as if she would disappear in a moment. A squawk was muffled between father and daughter, and Diana laughed at the sight of little Jon squashed between them.

While the sight of the child filled Tywin with rage, for he was so sure that though the child possessed Lannister features, he was a bastard, a stain on his house, Diana looked ready to weep. Her hands shook slightly as she pressed her palm against the swaddled child's cheek, earning a gurgle that one might call a giggle, and she laughed breathlessly. "Jon Lannister," She murmured, and in a voice so soft he could tell if she had actually spoken the words, "The Prince that was promised." Tywin stared down at the child, his eyes flickering between him and his wife, gears turning as he thought over her words. Was this why she was so taken with the child, not because he was her blood, but the answer to a prophesy, one that had killed so many of her kin before her?

Lyanna smiled down at the child with the Queen for a moment before unwrapping him from where he was bound against her chest, offering the babe to Diana while never once looking him in the eye. ' _She knows.'_ He thought to himself, ' _She knows that I think of this child as a Blackfyre, not a Stark or a Lannister.'_

"Would you like to hold him, your grace?" Lyanna's nervous voice asked, holding up the child to his wife, who looked like a child on their name day as she took the babe into her arms. There was a softness that shrouded Diana as she held the child, a look of awe and wonder in her eyes as she cooed softly to the babe.

"He looks so much like Jaime as a child." Diana informed her good daughter, who looked slightly relieved after the cold welcome Tywin had given her. "Does he sleep well? Jaime was such an awful crier, I thought the nursemaid would quit! The poor girl called the nursery a lion's den, always filled with roaring cubs." His eldest son blushed crimson at his mother's teasing, and Tywin watched Diana in her element, planting seeds of alliances while ensuring the servants heard her words, ensuring they would be repeated. Jaime had forced Tywin's hand, but not his mother's it seemed, for she effortlessly accepted Jon as her grandson, and ensured that others believed it as well.

"Yes your grace, he only cries when he is hungry." Lyanna replied with a sheepish grin, and Tywin wondered where the wolf that had ridden beside his son disappeared to. "And when he wants his father." As if on cue, Jon burst into tears, his tiny fists reaching out towards Jaime.

Jaime simply laughed, taking the child from his mother and speaking softly to the child as he calmed, starfished against the knight's chest. A tinge of hurt crossed Diana, and her voice was melancholy as she spoke, "It was always Aly who wished for her father."

It was then that Tywin noticed that his daughter was nowhere to be seen in the welcoming party, not even from the second story, where many ladies chose to stand, out of the mud and the muck. As Lyanna reaquainted herself with her family, Tywin turned to his wife, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. Taking her cue, Diana made quick work to separate themselves from the group, "The new royal suites are prepared for you and your family, Jaime, the twins are in the nursery and Jon is welcome to join them while you and Lady Lyanna settle." She hugged her son tightly, kissing both his cheeks before she faced the group again, "There shall be a feast tonight, of course, but for now I am sure you are all weary from travel, so please rest and servants will lead you to your quarters." She played the part of gracious queen the way a fish took to water, she was born for it.

"When I suggested redecorating the royal suites, I did not mean move them across the keep into former guest quarters." Tywin griped to his wife softly as they spun their way to where the new chambers lie, "You have an eye for grandeur, Diana, but not for sums." Perhaps that was where Jaime inherited his ineptitude in accounting as well, surely the renovations she conducted would cost a small fortune.

Diana in response merely laughed coldly, her arm wrapped in his tightening its grip as Sandor stepped back a few paces as if on cue, giving them privacy while still present in case of attack. "Take it out of the taxes the crown receives as recompense for the next ten years from those loyal to my uncle and nephew." Her eyes looked like wildfire then as she faced him at the door leading into his chamber, "Or from the trade boons or whatever other bribes you are receiving from the Vale at the cost of our daughter!"

Ah, there it was. She knew of Alysanne's betrothal, meaning their daughter did as well, which explained her absence at their arrival. He grit his teeth for a moment, throwing open the large doors to his chambers, enjoying the warmth from the double hearth and the style that reminded him of his old rooms at the Rock, his little wife had put thought and effort into his rooms, and yet he walked into them with her rage at his heels. "They are a great kingdom, divided by their liege house crumbling without heirs, a royal bride will cement any claim to that kingdom, and Jon Arryn knew it as well as I did."

"Alysanne is a widow, not even a year has passed since she lost her husband, and you wish to throw her to the next available suitor?" Diana raged, "And you do it all without my input, my consent!"

He quirked his brow at her then, "Your consent? She is my daughter, it is my duty as her father to see her wed to a lord of good repute!" His anger rose in him, and he pushed it down, not willing to feed his wife's already growing rage.

"The _Darling of the Vale_ is a lord of good repute?" Diana scoffed at him, pacing between the duel hearths with fists clenched, "He sounds like a maiden from a song, not a man worthy of my Aly! Besides, he has a lesser claim than the other lordling, what was his name, Elbar? Ellyrt?"

"Elbert Arryn." Tywin clarified, "Has the raven not yet reached the capital? The poor boy fell from the treacherous slopes leading from the blood gate into the Eyrie, broke his neck in the fall." He shrugged with little empathy, it had taken but a few gold dragons for a guard to push the boy from his horse and onto his death. The boy was reported to be haughty, full of himself and well known in the brothels of the Vale, no where near worthy of his title, let alone the eldest daughter of Tywin Lannister.

Realization flashed in Diana's eyes, but there was no empathy for the dead boy in her, only more rage. "And if the Old Falcon realizes you killed his other heir?" She paused in her pacing, and he noticed her breath was slightly labored despite the lack of speed she walked with, her hand resting delicately upon her side.

"He will not." Tywin chided, walking behind his wife, his hands resting upon the sides of her gown, she paused her fidgeting, leaning against him as her neck craned to look into his eyes. His fingers made quick work of the lacing of her gown, "Alysanne will be Lady of the Vale, her children, our grandchildren, will be Arryns of the Vale, with Lannister blood and the might of the royal family behind them, ensuring their claim." His lips brushed her neck as he pulled the fabric of her gown off of her body, leaving her in nothing but her shift.

Her fingers reached to repull the gown upon her and she frowned, "Tywin!" Diana's voice was a warning he did not head, and with a small tearing sound, his eyes met her bare flesh as the thin, skimpy cloth fell, ripped in two.

A scar, healing but not yet gone, a wound at the ending stages. "Who did this?" His voice was cold, detached of emotion yet brittle as ice. "Who hurt you, Diana?"

"No one." She said quickly, her breath caught in her throat as she moved to cover it with her palms. Diana turned to face him then, pressing against him as she could shield herself within him, "I was thrown from my horse, it took off in a rage and I landed on a weirwood root, it pierced my side." Her eyes still held her anger at him, yet also conveyed the spark of fear she had at his knowledge of her wound. There was something more to this, he knew, but neither dared to voice it. The last man to attempt to hurt his Diana had burned alive at her own hand, and Tywin ensured everyone knew Aerys Targaryen as the Mad King, a kinslayer and a craven.

"Redress yourself, but in a looser gown." He silenced her with a stare when she moved to protest him, "Your dress is lovely, but such a tight corset will anger the wound, and it will already scar your lovely skin." The ice in his veins spoke to his anger, and he moved to leave his new chambers when he thought back to their conversation before he discovered her injury, "I know you are not happy with the betrothal, and Alysanne most likely as well, so I give you leave to ply her by any means necessary, save moving the wedding date to a later time." He spoke with such a finality, one might mistake his words for a king's command, perhaps they were.

Tywin left his new chambers, swirling back down the stairs to where the Master of Whisper's kept his solar, and watched with a hint of amusement as Sandor moved to follow him while Tywin Surefoot simply glared at the Hound's retreating form. Varys, Tywin was not surprised to find, was waiting for him with a hint of a smile. With a deep bow and a tiny simper, the Spider greeted him, "Your grace, what a lovely surprise to find you in my solar so soon after your return. No rest for the wicked, it seems." His hooded eyes held knowing looks, "How is her grace, the Queen, faring?"

"She was wounded, claims to have been thrown from her horse." Tywin replied bluntly, he had no time for games, and moved to pour both men glasses of wine from the pitcher upon the desk. "I trust there is more to it than than a simple rouge filly?"

Varys beamed for a moment, pulling an object from the silks of his sleeve, "A stable boy was found killed by the docks, replaced with another of similar age as to not draw suspicion, my little birds flushed out his location in Flea Bottom, he has been in the black cells ever since."

"And the Queen has not been made aware of his arrest?" Tywin asked with a raised eyebrow, "It was commanded that she rule while I was away at war."

Varys showed no remorse, simply shrugging slightly as he moved to open a crate where Diana's saddle rested, he would recognise it anywhere, it was an ornate and sturdy thing. "I thought your grace would wish for the prisoner to be alive upon your return, your grace." When Varys lifted the strap that kept it attached to the beast, the small, sharp tacks glinted in the light. "The saddle was rigged to slowly unravel, piercing the horse's side and causing it pain when the rider attempted to bear down on the saddle for leverage, the beast too, was found to only be half broken, and a willful one at that. The fact that the Queen rode him as far into the King's wood as she did is a testament to her skill in the saddle."

"And the prisoner, where is he now?" Tywin asked, cold as steel. He would order for the best torturer to be brought from the Westerlands, a man he had used many times to gather information from prisoners when needed.

"In the Black Cells, my king." He simpered for a moment, before continuing with a curious tint to his tone, "But he will not speak save for a single phrase."

"Which is?" Tywin bit out, losing his patience.

"What is dead may never die." Varys echoed.

A/N:

Sorry, I didn't get to Daemon this chapter! But Tywin is home, and the drama continues!

Next chapter:

-Diana convinces Alysanne to accept her betrothal

-Daemon arrives!


	80. Chapter 80

A/N:

Happy chapter 80 guys! Your reviews make me so happy. :) Warning, this chapter gets heavy, mentions of death and child loss, beware/trigger warning.

Diana shivered in her husband's chambers, eyes wide and unblinking as she gazed into the fires of the duel hearth. She had thought herself so poise, unyielding and unflinching in the face of her pain, her wound, and he saw right through her, ripped her silk fineries from her flesh and revealed her weakness plain as day. She knew Tywin could be cruel, but this was his first cruelty directed at her directly. Clinging to her torn gown, she crossed the hallway that lead to her own chambers, silencing her sworn shield with a warning glance as he squared his jaw in silent rage at her shaken appearance. Aerys's long, coiling fingers flashed before her and she shed her clothes in the privacy of her rooms, pushing and pulling her own palms through the roaring flames in the hearth. ' _I am a dragon, he cannot hurt me anymore, he burned for what he has done, I am a dragon.'_ Her thoughts echoed in her skull as she relished the heat of the flame, cleansing her thoughts before she withdrew her palms and went to her wardrobe.

For the first time since she became Queen, Diana donned Targaryen colors, thick black velvet with daring scarlet myrish lace, leaving keyhole cutouts across her torso, tiny peaks of porcelain skin beneath layers of fabric. It went only to her elbows, leaving her forearms free, while the skirts pooled about her feet, hiding her steps beneath the fabrics. She wrenched a brush through her hair, leaving it down and wild, silver tresses falling to her shoulders as she squared her crown atop her head. ' _Regal as a Queen.'_ She thought to herself smugly as she left her chambers. Tywin Surefoot did not say a word as he followed two steps behind her, where she led them to her daughter's chambers. From the guards outside the other rooms, she assumed Jaime and Lyanna were settling in as she instructed them to do.

She knocked once, waiting a moment and then opened the door when she heard no reply. Alysanne was sketching angrily by her window, not bothering to even look up at her mother. "Alysanne, there is much we need to discuss."

"Has the betrothal been broken?" Alysanne asked woodenly, her tone dry and her eyes unyielding. She turned from her perch at the window to glare her mother down, lip curled in a snarl. "Or perhaps the little darling met an 'accident' like Gregor Clegane when you burned his hands from his wrists."

Diana stepped back in shock, who had told her of such things? Both Jaime and Brandon had been sent from the room, and Sandor sworn to secrecy on the matter, as far as she knew he loathed to talk of fire of any kind, let alone how he got his scars or the repercussions his brother faced for giving him them. "Hold your tongue of matters in which you do not know of." Diana barked, rage flashing in her eyes before she doused it with the knowledge of what she came to her daughter in order to do. "You will become Lady Arryn, Alysanne. Lord Denys rides to the capital as we speak, the Maester's speak of Spring, and with it comes the festival of the Seven, where on the day of the Father, the final and largest feast of the seven day event, you shall be wed in the Great Sept, as well as your brother and Lyanna Stark, in the eyes of the Seven."

"And should I refuse to take the vows?" Aly taunted, standing tall before her kin, she had her father's height with her mother's slim build, giving her a slight touch of height over Diana, which she used to her advantage, "Perhaps I run off to join the Mummers in Lys."

"Your father will hunt you down and convince a Septon to wed you without having to speak a word." Diana deadpanned, and the slight paleness that struck her daughter's coloring let her know she understood just as well as she did of the Royal Lion's Wrath. She sighed then, and held out her hand to her daughter, "To prevent that, I am willing to come to a compromise, come, there is something I wish to show you."

Alysanne glared at her mother for a moment before begrudgingly taking her offered hand. Together, Diana led her towards the royal treasury. Servants bowed and curtsied as the royals passed, and the Queen smiled ruefully towards her daughter, "Despite your marriage, you will always be a Princess of the Blood, remember that, Aly."

The girl blinked owlishly at the phrase, surprised to hear her mother say such a thing, to be of the Blood meant to be of Old Valyria, of royal kinship. It was a phrase she heard Rhaegar say often, but one she thought never to hear again. She followed her mother and Queen as they went deep into the bowels of the Keep, where the royal treasury lie, heavily guarded. The men bowed deeply to their Queen and princess, and for a moment Aly felt envy, watching her mother strut about.

"While your father fought to protect our claims, I did inventory of the Royal Treasury, and I found something, or rather, a few somethings, hidden within." Diana sealed the door behind them, leaving only the women to hear what they were to discuss. She moved to where a tapestry depicting Aegon and his Queens, Rhaenys and Visenya, and pulled it back to reveal an alcove, where two dragon eggs lay nestled within, one black with red markings, and the other an ocean blue with white markings. "I have been dreaming, Alysanne, dreaming of dragons. For years, I dreamed of the red dragon curled about my neck, with the snarling dragon protecting my throne. Yet as of late, I have dreamed of other dragons…" Her voice trailed off, and her gaze pierced Alysanne.

"What other dragons?" Aly asked, her hands shaking slightly at the ache in her chest, the blood roaring in her ears.

"What I am about to tell you must stay in this room, Alysanne." Diana commanded, turning to stare at the tapestry that once again hid the eggs. "The conquest was successful because the dragon had three heads."

"Mother, I don't understand!" Alysanne cried out, stepping towards the Queen who held a far off gaze.

"As a child, I overheard a conversation, one I shrugged off as riddles of prophecy, but now I understand." Diana told her, "My father and the King argued just before my siblings were betrothed, Prince Jaehaerys insisted that the dragon must have three heads, while King Aegon stood firm that only the Andal Divine would birth a dragon, I see now that they both are correct. The long night is coming, Aly, and the Prince that was Promised must have his dragon brides."

Aly scrunched her brows, not understanding her mother, who spoke in riddles. "Mother, speak plain." She watched the woman huff in frustration, "I do not have the sight, mother."

"The Lady Lyanna shall make a wonderful Queen one day, and her son Jon an even better king after Jaime, but he cannot face the Night's King alone, he needs his wives. Should Lyanna not be able to produce two daughters, Prince Jon shall look to the East, where his cousins lay." Diana informed her, "Marry the heir to the Vale, and I shall give you the dragon egg of Arryn colors, and should Lyanna fail to produce two princesses, one or two of your daughter's shall be Queen."

"You wish to marry sibling to sibling, if not cousin to cousin?" Alysanne asked in shock, "To wed little Jon to his sisters, to suffer the fate of Aunt Rhaella? And what, should your new good daughter not whelp enough female offspring, mine are presented as a consolation prize?"

Diana glared at her daughter, "I am offering you the chance to have your daughter be Queen, to hatch a dragon of your own!" Her words were snarls, and her daughter's flinch broke her of her revery, causing her to soften, "I am offering you everything you ever wanted."

"What I wanted was my freedom! To choose my groom, and instead you try to corral me into your schemes of prophecy!" Aly replied tartly, her eyes cold. She darted forward, pulling the tapestry aside and grasping the warm egg in her palms. A yearning tore through her, and she sighed, "The egg shall be given at the wedding breakfast, I shall choose my own dress, and a clause in the wedding contract shall clearly state that I shall have my own stipend, choice of servants and free range of choice for who my children shall wed."

Diana thought back to her own betrothal contract, and the seeds she planted within that were similar, and pride flushed through her at the sight of her daughter playing the great game. "Done." She assented, daring to smile. "Your room arrest is lifted should you agree to behave yourself at the feast." Diana smiled teasingly, enjoying her daughter's half hearted huff of outrage.

She darted back out of the treasure room and wound her way towards her rooms when a servant came forward to alert her that Daemon was being escorted to his rooms. Diana grinned and moved to where his chambers lay, finding him dressed in all black. "Colors of mourning, my son, on such a happy day as this?" Yet when Daemon turned at her entrance, his eyes held unshed tears.

"Mother!" Like a child, he buried his face in her chest as they embraced, and she coddled him like a toddler, hushing him and stroking his hair.

"Hush, my love, what's wrong?" Her words were a coo as she calmed him down, filled with worry, "Where is your lady wife and your heir?" As soon as she spoke he began to weep, and realization dawned on her then, he was wearing the colors of mourning.

"It was a bloody birth, mother, so much _blood."_ He cried, "The Maester tried to keep me away, but Lynda just kept screaming! I, I had to be there for her, she was calling for me and looked so pale and-" Daemon's babbled stopped abruptly as he shook with a heart wrenching sob.

Diana felt herself begin to weep as she comforted her son, "It's all right, darling, it's all right." She hummed softly, the way she would when he was a babe, but he continued to cry.

"She died in my arms, mother, the babe was stuck, and when he arrived…" Daemon shuddered, no doubt imagining the memory he retold, "He was blue in the face, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, my sweet little boy, dead the moment he was born."

"No…" Her voice was a whimper, and she remembered the curse of Harrenhal, the warning of her ancestor, ' _only fire and blood may cleanse the curse, the fire of king's blood.'_

Daemon looked so young in her arms, barely sixteen and already mourning the loss of wife and child. Was this the fate she condemned her children to, to become widows so early in life? Everything comes at a price, and for a moment Diana wondered if the crown upon her head was worth such a heavy cost.

Both mother and son wept for the loss of Lady Lynda Lannister and her son, their unnamed heir to Daemon's title and keep, and servants would later find them, son sleeping in his mother's arms like a child, while Diana dreamed of his future.

In her mind, the Queen dreamed once more of the falling star, yet this time, it landed and fell into a mighty river, the shadow of Harrenhal before it. And from the water, came Ashara Dayne, a Lannister bridal cloak about her shoulders as she walked towards the cursed keep, where a great fire was lit, and in the center, a kraken writhed as it was burned alive.


	81. Chapter 81

It was in the hours after his arrival to the capital that Tywin found himself under the cloak of shadows, heading towards the Black Cells. The damp, musky air had him sniffing in disdain, thinking back to the month between rescuing his wife, and the days the Lord Paramount of the North and his heir spent in the rank cells. Diana refused to speak of those days, though he saw flashes of fear in her eyes when a person turned a corner that she did not expect to, and he knew that he would have to make up for his rough treatment of her earlier. Over the years of their marriage, Tywin had grown possessive of his wife, his Brightheart, and woah to any who stood between what was his. He was a Lannister, and with his royal bride, his legacy only grew.

Perhaps it was this possessiveness, this ire that one would try to harm that which is his, that caused him to be as his house sigil, a snarling lion on the hunt for his prey. The Spider had followed him silently, eager to watch the events unfold no doubt, though the eunuch took the lead to guide the king to the darkest corner of the dungeons.

Arms stretched painfully tight over his shoulders, the faux stable boy looked meek on the rack when the king entered. He was plain featured, watery blue eyes and dusty brown hair, an easy face to forget, most likely selected for just such a description. The prisoner was no more than fifteen, though Tywin felt no pity for him as he strode forward, soft leather boots making a soft squishing sound as he stepped over hay last laid far too long ago to be of any use to take away the smell of blood, puss and piss. The stony silence stretched for a few beats before Varys broke it with a dry smile and a frank, "Hello, little kraken." His teasing tone held the lilt of humor at the nickname, though neither commented on it.

The boy, for his merit, only responded with a weak, "What is dead may never die." His eyes, half swollen shut and mottled with a green and black bruising, stayed on the king as the words left his cracked lips, and Tywin resisted a smirk, remaining unphased.

"Who sent you?" The king asked bluntly.

"What is dead may never die." Responded the boy.

"It is all he has said for two weeks, my King." Varys informed primly, "Hence why he remains chained." Tywin glanced at the Master of Whispers with a dry expression upon his face, though he was rather glad that the Spider understood the delicacy of this situation, his Queen would no doubt burn the man alive for the attempt on her life, and Tywin did not need her to be compared to her brother while their reign was still so new, so insecure. Alliances were being forged with every passing day, and the Lannister legacy would not be foiled by a few fools in the Iron Islands, even if he had to see to it himself.

"Why did you attempt to kill the Queen?" Tywin attempted again, this time earning a shadow of a grin from the prisoner.

"What is dead may never die." He spat, and was surprised with a gash to his cheek as Tywin rammed his fist across the man's face, slicing him with his signet ring.

With a huff, the King left the cell and moved to return towards where the stairs leading to the keep above lay. Within the hall that held the row of prisons, the guards warily watched the King stomp from the room with the Spider following a few steps behind. Once they were out of earshot, Tywin turned to Lord Varys with a frown, "What is dead may never die, that boy follows the old way."

"Lord Quellon was said to wish to bring an end to the old way." Varys simpered demurely, "His eldest son and heir...wished to revive it."

"What was his name? Baelor?" Tywin mused softly, more to himself than the Spider. "Balon, that was it. I believe his father wrote to Queen Diana seeking Alysanne's hand for his heir." The king scoffed.

"My little birds whisper of Lord Quellon seeking to end the isolation of the Iron Islands, through both marriage and trade. The past few years, timber has been increasingly imported from the Southern Islands, who deal with flesh peddling mostly." Varys informed, his face purposely blank as he informed the king of the dealings of the only kingdom to thus far not make a claim of loyalty for or against the Lannisters. "The Ironborn capture prisoners they call thralls, who are essentially conquered slaves, rumor has it, they have been raiding and reaving trade ships for flesh to trade for timber."

"How much timber?" Tywin asked tightly, half aware of the answer.

"Enough to build a fleet rivalling that of Lannisport, Dragonstone and the Arbor combined." The Spider mused, shrugging softly as he moved forward to the steps. "Enough to weave their way through the Seven Kingdoms, or at least, those connected to the sea."

"Have a small fisherman's boat take the boy, slit his throat once they are near Pyke and throw his body to wash upon the shore, wrapped in a Lannister cloak." Tywin ordered as he moved out of the dungeons and made his way towards his chambers. Already, he had fought and won one war, and now the Ironborn wished to thrust him into another.

His thoughts swirled with rage as he entered the hall that housed the royal suites, only to find a servant carrying a thick blanket towards his wife's chambers. "Who is that for?" He questioned, Diana would no doubt be bathing or sitting as a handmaiden spent hours twisting her hair into some ostentatious style, not napping the afternoon away.

The servant looked spooked, and she bowed deeply before the king. "Prince Daemon rode into the Keep, your grace, he and the Queen spent time in her chambers and…" Pinks tinted in embarrassment, she only continued after a sharp glare from the king, "I heard crying from the entrance, and when it went quiet, I discovered them asleep, your grace."

Tywin's face remained hardened, though his eyes softened slightly at the edges as he grabbed the blanket from the woman's arms. "You're dismissed." He stated neutrally, and when she had left his sight he entered his wife's chambers. Daemon had grown before his eyes, and Tywin resisted a laugh at the hint of a beard upon his second son's chin. He was curled in Diana's arms as they both lay before the hearth on a large couch, tear tracks upon each of their faces.

Unfolding the blanket, which Tywin mused to be a buckskin based on the soft feel of the fur, he wrapped both mother and child in the warmth before sitting before the small desk in the room. The sitting room worked as a secondary, more private solar, he mused as he noticed the large chest Diana kept their letters in.

The King sat and watched his wife and son sleep peacefully for a moment, knowing he would have to break it soon. They both would need to begin to prepare for the evening feast soon, though Tywin was loathe to interrupt their slumber, considering the peacefulness of the moment. So he sat and watched over them, his shadow keeping the light of the fire from their face, and Diana smiled softly in her sleep.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, and warmth stirred in him as his wife gazed upon him with such a fierce sense of devotion, it was palpable. "Tywin…" Her voice was a whisper, not wanting to disturb their son. Tywin watched her face cloud with emotion, as if she sensed his woes and took them as her own. "We're going back to war, aren't we?"

"In a year or two, perhaps." Tywin replied darkly, before he stood and closed the small gap between them, his hands running through her silver hair. "But for now, let us enjoy this peace while it lasts."

Sleepily, Diana smiled, "I shall begin planning the Spring festival of the Seven, and Aly's nuptials." Tywin grinned at her, his little wife had a way of convincing people.

"For now, my love, rest." Tywin ordered, "I shall fetch the servants to draw you a bath and escort Daemon to his own chambers."

Diana's face darkened, as if suddenly remembering the reason for her son's return. "Lynda Whent is dead, both she and her child were laid to rest in Harrenhal." She looked beseechingly to her husband then, and Tywin frowned, knowing that look. Diana had been dreaming again, and she was always desperate to fulfill her dreams.

"We shall give Daemon time to mourn." Tywin replied matter-of-factly, the wheels of his mind turning. He would need to speak to Lord Tully, whose son now held the strongest claim as a noble with Whent blood. It was a shame Lysa Tully had wed Robert Baratheon, she could have been Lady of Harrenhal instead of Storm's End. Either way, a small fortune of Lannister gold had rebuilt the ruin into a fortress, and it gave him claim to the lands, with or without living children resulting in the marriage.

"The blood curse of Harrenhal must be lifted." Diana said tightly, determination lacing her features. Her eyes fell back to Daemon, their second child to be made a widow, he at only fifteen. "I will not doom our son to repeat this fate."

Tywin sighed, he had no time for curses or blood magic, which ever the mummery his wife spoke of happened to be. "And how would we do that, Diana?" He wanted to tell her it was all fake, that they needed to look to reason, but reason had not hatched a dragon, so he left her leeway to fulfill her wild musings.

"King's Blood." Diana replied flatly, a touch of madness in her eyes, "The blood of a King chosen by his men, one that is dead but may never die."

Tywin clenched his jaw, but when he went to speak, he was interrupted by his son coming to. Daemon blinked sleepily before sitting up, away from his mother and leaning on the couch. He bowed his head and quickly greeted his father, "My king." Daemon was the most formal of his children, most likely because of his closeness to his mother, who regarded courtesy as a hidden weapon.

Tywin simply smiled softly at his son, "Daemon, welcome home. Please, prepare for the feast tonight, your mother and I have much to discuss." The middle child, for his merit, simply bowed and scampered off as he was told.

Diana smiled demurely at the exit, her eyes flushed with emotions. "I know a mother should never favor one child over the other, but Daemon was the only babe who was ever by himself." She looked about to cry, and Tywin sat beside her only for the Queen to curl herself into his arms. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself that this was how he should have treated her when he arrived, not by revealing her wound and leaving. "Jaime always had Alysanne, and Aly Jaime, but Daemon was all alone in his crib, and he would always cry for me, the servants could never calm him down! And now...now he is widowed too young, and grieving the loss of both wife and child and I...I failed him."

Tywin thought back to when his children were just that, children, when Jaime and Alysanne played knights and princesses, while Daemon hid beneath his mother's skirts. Off all her children, Diana was closest to Daemon, and for him, she had selected a grand castle for him to rule with a lovely lady to call his wife, and it crumbled before them. "You have not failed him, Diana, you are not omnipotent, you cannot foresee every fate the gods lay before men." His hands stroked her back and hair, attempting to soothe her. "He is young, he will find love again, have a lady wife who will give him children, just as you have given me him and his siblings."

"The gods have gifted me the sight, but not the ability to protect my children from what I have seen." Diana replied, face pale. "Not to protect them from what is to come."

Tywin frowned, tilting her head to look him in the eye. "I do not care for what is to come, Diana, for no matter what it may be, I shall protect you and our family. The legacy that we have built will not crumble so easily."

The Queen smiled at him then, but as she kissed him, Tywin wondered if she believed him or was simply humoring him.

A/N:

Euron during the premiere of GoT had me squealing with excitement. Part of me wants to change my plans for the Greyjoys just because of him haha. Either way, this chapter was more for setting up the sequel. The Greyjoy Rebellion will start one to two years from when this chapter takes place, so this one is laying the foundation.


	82. Chapter 82

A/N: So, I love the Hound, and I love Brienne, so I wrote this little subplot haha. I'll probably end up having them be dubbed 'Beauty and the Beast' by the court, because I based Diana off of Catherine De Medici, who I learned recently thanks to a Netflix documentary, forced a woman also named Catherine to wed a man named Petras, who everyone thought was a beast because he had a genetic condition that caused extreme hair growth all over his body, fun stuff.

Also, the Tourney of the Seven is happening because the war ends in the year of the false spring, so they have a tourney at the beginning of every spring, or perceived spring haha. This is a Sandor POV chapter that goes over his childhood at the Rock and explains how being raised as a ward to house Lannister rather than in his brother's shadow changes his character and perceptions. Since Jaime and Aly are about 17/18, I'm putting Sandor at about 15/16, but a huge dude for his age, and with the insecurities of youth.

The tourney of the Seven was due to start the following day, but Sandor dreaded the festivities. Queen Diana had her hands full of plots as of late, using the theme of each of the Seven deities to her advantage, the tourney of the Warrior included a large enough champion's purse to attract heirs, vassals and hedge knights alike, while the feast of the Mother included Septons collecting coin for the various charities ran by the royal household since Good Queen Alysanne founded them, and the current Queen had her hand in all of them, leaving her shut in her Solar most afternoons, plotting away with advisors and nobles alike.

There was no official announcement of any royal guard, dubbed neither kingsguard or queensguard, but Sandor and Tywin Surefoot remained vigilant shadows of the last dragon queen, wary of anyone who saw the Queen after the events of the Queen's last ride in the Kingswood. It bothered Sandor, that he was not more aware of the horse the woman had ridden, nor her saddle or the boy who put it upon the beast, and left him unsettled. If he had checked for danger, would she have still been harmed? The Ironborn were a ruthless bunch, a people who took what they perceived to be theirs by the Iron Price, which bothered him even more. Why would a people of reavers and rapists use a boy to send a message? Sure, the lad did not fear death, but he did not have the hands of a sailor either, no callouses or bruises matching those who work and live on ships. He was a steely thing, well fed and resilient, with defiance beaten out of him until he only knew one phrase, and in hindsight, the boy never spoke a word as he saddled the horses for the Queen and Princess, only bowed and smiled slightly as he went about his work.

Sandor was stuck in his life, he knew, he had sworn no oaths of protection to the Queen as Tywin Surefoot had, and the Lady of Lannister was not keen on naming him so either, ever insistent that a match would be made for him once the right lady was found, one who would not mind a beast such as him. It was a laughable statement, one that he was sure would never be found to be true.

So with her sworn shield guarding her door, Sandor left the Queen's side to travel to the training yard, which was rife with men from all Seven Kingdoms there to celebrate the festival of the Seven preparing for the melees and tourneys to come. He did not bother with full armour, instead opting for a faded yellow tunic, the three Clegane dogs stitched on the breast surrounding a sleeping lioness, a gift from Princess Alysanne a few years prior. She was two years his senior, yet he towered over both her and Prince Jaime as long as he had been apart of the Lannister household, and her dainty build and sweet name day gifts left her as his first fancy, though a fleeting one. In the years spent at Casterly Rock, he had watched the daughters of the Westerlands who served as playmates to Alysanne and later confidants and handmaidens, and all of them had fawned over the other squires, but never him, not the hound, the Lannister Lady's lapdog. While the squires threw bold swings to impress the fawning ladies, Sandor trained in earnest, only ever rivalled by Jaime himself in swordsmanship as they grew older, the Master at Arms being rather pleased at the sight of the two boys rivalry driving them further into the craft rather than evening out due to cockyness. The Lannister heir was confidant, and Sandor enjoyed knocking the smug grin off of his face when they sparred, knowing that at the end of the day, both boys would retire for ale in the Hall of Heroes and dinner with the household.

Despite his reservations over receiving the title, Sandor had begrudgingly accepted his knighthood at the end of the war, at the insistence of the newly crowned king. ' _I trained you in the arts of battle the same as my own sons, I expect this investment to bear fruit, Sandor.'_ Tywin's cold voice rattled in the back of his mind, and he entered the training yard with the idea of battling his demons in the form of training dummies. Yet when he entered where the straw faux soldiers were kept, someone else hacked at them in his stead. The figure was broad shouldered, coming to his chin in height, Sandor mused, with blonde hair the color of flax, shorn to a medium length that swished with every movement the soldier made. The man held a longsword in his hands, castle forged steel of fine craftsmanship, with gleaming blue stones on the hilt carved with sunbursts and crescent moons. He moved with the grace of a squire well versed in his master's lessons, yet his anger had his working in quick jabs to take out the would be opponent before him.

"I believe he's dead, Ser." Sandor drawled, "Would that he weren't made of fucking straw." The man jumped, clearly startled at his entrance, and Sandor watched him with amusement.

"I am no Ser, Ser." The man, no, the woman, he realized with a hint of embarrassment, responded. Eyes of clear blue stared back at him, framed with freckles and a nose that had been broken more than once by the crook of it. She was not beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but she held herself in such strong standing that it was almost attractive, the confidence she projected in order to shield herself, it reminded him of himself.

"A thousand apologies, my lady." Sandor drawled sarcastically, noting her still drawn sword and releasing his own from his sheath. "I was not expecting a lady to be present in the training yard, hacking at straw dummies as if they were men." ' _And with a sword the size of my arm.'_ He thought snarkily to himself.

The woman merely smiled tightly and gestured to his drawn sword, "Have you come to hack at straw men, or be beaten by a woman?" She was cocky, and her grin was crooked, but she had his attention.

Sandor laughed heartily, yet when she did not waver, he merely shrugged, "The Queen has spoken of wishing for women to be trained in defense, yet it seems women are already being trained in offense." He grinned, "I suppose the vow to never harm a lady does not count if the lady has a sword."

"I am a squire of Tarth." She responded stubbornly, "Not a simpering lady in need of defense training."

"Yes, yes," Sandor replied dismissively, "And I am the King of Essos, now are we going to spar or should I defeat the straw soldiers before I have my evening meal?"

The woman, he now realized he did not know her name, only that she was a noble from the Isle of Tarth, lunged at him with her sword, and he parried quickly. They danced through the open room, using the dummies as tactical diversions, ducking behind them and pushing them in front of their opponent, before circling out into the main courtyard.

Sandor cursed when that occured, for his attempt to unbalance her backfired, sending him sprawling into the open field, where a group of squires noticed the battling pair and quickly scrambled out of the way. Soon, a small group of the youth had gathered in the stands, cheering and placing bets. Hedge knights and nobles alike cleared the grounds to watch the two battle with live steel, grunting and growling as they hacked at each other.

For a moment, Sandor wondered if it was a mistake to spar with the squire of Tarth, who had blocked or dodged every attack he made, until he saw his opening. From the stands, a shout came ringing down, "Get him! Brienne the Beauty!" The mocking voice had his opponent distracted for a single moment as she turned to glare at the source of the title, and he hacked at her sword arm.

"Ah!" Brienne, as he know knew her to be called, cried out, her sword loosening in her grip before she slashed at him in anger, coming at him stronger than before. She drove him into the muddy ground where the hay had come loose from previous spars, and on one knee he attempted to push his way back up into a standing position, but her sword clashed against his, holding him down. "Yield!" She hissed.

"Go fuck yourself." Sandor snarled, about to break free of her trap when the roar of the cheering onlookers suddenly quieted, everyone becoming still. The pressure on his weapon suddenly disappeared as Brienne's sword clattered to the ground, and he saw her staring behind his shoulders. From his place on one knee, Sandor noticed the grim faced Master at Arms of the Red Keep, leading the Queen herself down to the training yard, flanked by Tywin Surefoot and a man dressed with a large sigil upon his breast, sunbursts and crescent moons, the same as Brienne's sword.

"Upon one knee before a maiden? I never thought I would see the day, Ser Sandor." Queen Diana's voice was amused, but Tywin's panicked brown eyes gave away the message that no doubt prompted the Queen's arrival.

Rising to his full height, Sandor let his sword drop into the mud next to Brienne's, and shrugged. "I'd rather fight someone of my skill level, your grace, whether they wear britches or skirts."

Mirth danced in the Queen's eyes, but she spoke demurely, "Save your skill for the tourney, Ser Clegane, for now, let us all retire to our rooms in preparation of tonight's feast." Diana glanced at the Lord of Tarth conspiratorially, "I believe this fight has given us all the excitement one needs for a day."

Sandor moved to bow, and hid a bark of a laugh when Brienne mimicked him perfectly. As the crowds dispersed, Sandor moved to do as his queen bid, not sparing his sparring partner a second glance as he left the field. Staying a few steps behind the Queen, he moved to where his chambers lay, passing the Queen and Lord closely enough to catch a snippet of their conversation, "My daughter once remarked that she would only wed a man who beat her in a duel, and your hound was the closest I have ever seen come to it."

Ears burning, Sandor quickly passed them and entered his chamber, commanding a servant to draw him a bath. He had not dueled a random squire of Tarth, but the Heiress of Tarth, Brienne the Beauty. The Queen would not be pleased with this, he had no doubt.

A/N:

Little hint of what's to come in the beginning and ending of this chapter.

P.S.

If you like Brienne stories, I highly recommend _In the Midst of Honor_ by ShakespeareOfThrones, whose story inspired this subplot.


	83. Chapter 83

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the big bads of season seven, Olenna and Euron, whose' POV's are used in this chapter. Also, kudos to those who suspected this before the last chapter.

Also, I went with Yara Greyjoy instead of Asha, just because I haven't read the books in forever, so the name Yara is more familiar.

Euron Greyjoy, a true son of salt and sea, stood before the bloated carcass that had washed upon the shores of Pyke, carried by the strong currents mapped by his ancestors as they raped and weaved their way across the seas. He could not recognise the man's face, he was long dead and suffered beatings whilst still alive, but the message the body contained was clear as day. Sewn into the flesh's very shoulders was a roaring lion cloak, a noose wrapped around the throat with a message kept dry in an old bottle, a warning no doubt.

When his lord father Quellon had bid him to see what the fuss was about on the shoreline, he surely did not expect this, lest he send the more rational, less bloodthirsty of his sons. Yet it was Euron who smashed the glass bottle three times in order to break out the securely sealed message, and his eyes that read it first, one simple sentence, one declaration of war. In neat, almost feminine script read, _The Lannisters send their regards._

Rage, white hot and all consuming, flared within him. His father spent moon after moon bickering with the lords of the Iron Islands, do they pledge allegiance to Aerys or his sister, Diana and her lion groom? The eldest of the Greyjoy boys, and their father's heir, Balon, fought hard and fast for the idea of independence, to be a prince and not a lord, but Lord Quellon was hard set on being just that, a lord. He spoke of the new dynasty being a chance for trade, with the loyalists being punished they could steal their routes and increase the gold coming into the lands through merchants and shipments of fine goods. He wished to make them delivery boys, not feared sailors.

The lions were prideful, no matter their coat, as the Reynes had proven, and giving them a crown had only added to the hubris. The Iron Islands were the only of the seven kingdoms to not declare a side, and now the war was won and the newly minted king and queen wished to force them to bend the knee. ' _Who did they think they are?'_ Euron silently raged, ' _Sending their regards when they have no paid the Iron Price for a thing in their lives. All gold, no iron.'_

With his troop of men behind them, Euron left the rocky shores of Pyke and made his way into the castle proper, where his father waited at the great table, breaking fast with his sons and their children. Euron made eye contact with his eldest brother, Balon, nodding ever so slightly to him. The heir simply smiled grimly before his younger children distracted him, little Yara was nearing her fifth name day and doted on the youngest of the four children, Theon, who was happily smearing honey across his face in an attempt to eat his treat. Balon barely looked at the youngest of his four children, merely whisked the treat from the boy's hands and silenced his cry with a single icy glare.

Quellon waited silently for his son to speak on his findings, raising a gnarled hand to lift a spoon of what looked to be more broth than soup into his mouth as he schooled his face into a neutral one before the main branch of house Greyjoy as Euron approached him, crumpled parchment in one hand and broken bottle in the other. "We did not join the rebellion in it's infancy nor in it's adulthood, and now the war is won and we stand as the last kingdom unconquered, and the Lannisters view us as ripe for the taking." Euron informed, eyes wild with bloodlust and anger. "I warned you father, to join with the lions when they sacrificed Mace Tyrell to the Drowned God during the Flower's Folly, and now they have turned their eyes towards us, there is no reward for loyalty being given like the Starks or Arryns, only a warning for submission." He held up the parchment, waving it to all those in the room as if proof of treason. He was angry, enraged at the thought of war being waged, fought and won, all while the Ironborn hide in their castles, cowering like dogs.

With a wary edge to his voice, Quellon simply asked, "What message was sent?" Euron watched his father settle further into his chair, as if he could simply melt into it under his children's' harsh gazes. Quellon was once the picture of what it meant to be Ironborn, strong sinewy arms from years captaining ships, long sea faring legs and a full beard spanning down his chest as black as pitch with hair of the same shade pulled into a tail down his back. Where was the warrior his father used to be? All that sat before him now was a shell, a husk of a former man. Quellon had let age ruin him, hair limp and streaked with grey, muscles turned soft from disuse, he had let his body head to ruin, while his mind rotted within his skull. The only part of Quellon his son recognised in him was his eyes, though sunken in, they held light in the murky depths.

"The Lannisters send their regards." The words revolved like a slap upon the stone surrounding them, the howling of the storm brewing outside clattering against the echo of Euron words, and the dark meaning behind them.

The sound of dripping rain, leaking from unpatched roofs, was the only sound in the room save for Theon's fists scraping against the table, reaching for the sweets his mother had discreetly distanced from him. Where rage brewed in Balon and his two elder sons, Rodrik and Maron, silent horror had overtaken their wife and mother, the Lady Alannys, as well as Lord Quellon himself. "We did not answer the summons to King's Landing for the Festival of their Seven, where the other lords of the realm are bound to bend the knee to the Lion King and his Dragon Queen." The Lord of the Iron Islands said after a moment, reaching for the goblet of wine that had before sat untouched, "This is their way of telling us to bend the knee, no doubt."

Draining the glass of bitter liquor, Quellon said nothing else, simply raised the spoon full of soup into his mouth again as if nothing else had been said. The lack of reaction sent Euron spinning, surprised that his father was so nonchalant of the findings. "And?" Euron prompted impatiently, only for his father to simply stare at him, blinking slowly as he fed himself broth.

"I suppose they expect us to either bend the knee or be slaughtered." Quellon replied flippantly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And?" This time Balon spoke, his face betraying nothing as his hands stretched out, gripping the blade of a knife as he swatched butter across a loaf of dried, days old bread. He bit into it with a crunch, his wife glaring at him dully when she heard the sound. "We are Ironborn, it is time to live the Old way once more. Starting with the Lion's lands, they are sure to be rich with gold...and decent bread."

Quellon glared at his two sons, who shared a silent revery at the words of the eldest. He dipped his spoon back into the bowl, frowning into the broth as he raised the liquid to his lips. "The Old way is no more, it is time to move onto the new. We must assert ourselves into the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, and a new dynasty is unfolding, one with new players on the board." His voice was bleak, but his tone sure, "We shall make a small fortune in trade, expand our fleets beyond that which the known world has seen."

Euron could stand his words no more, stomping forward with heavy booted feet. He stood across the table from his father, his brother on his left side and Lady Alannys on his right as his fists banged upon the wood that separated sire and son. "They send a body to our shores, and you would give them an oath of fealty?"

"I recognise that a squid alone in the water is no match on the shore against the beasts of the land." Quellon deadpanned, his waxy face glowing in the light as his younger son breathed in his face. "They will kill us all, destroy our house root and stem, sometimes it is best to accept defeat. I am too old to fight, my hands are not able to hold a sword, and I would not use what is left of my sight to see my children and grandchildren die."

"Then don't." Euron stated simply, grabbing his father by the back of his skull, using the first full of hair to plunge his face into his own soup. The old man struggled, but Euron held him firm, letting Quellon scratch his arms in an attempt to save himself from the death that awaited him.

Both of the elder boys jumped to their feet, reaching for their swords, but a stone faced Balon simply raised a hand, stopping both young warriors in their tracks. Euron simply watched his father sputter against the broth until he stopped moving, and released him with a soft thud. Looking at his brother he merely grinned, "What is dead may never die."

"But rises again, harder and stronger than before." Balon replied, and after a moment of tenseness in the room looked down upon the freshly made corpse. "The Lords of the Iron Islands will want the man who killed their lord brought to justice."

"Do what you will, my king." Euron replied as his own men grabbed him by the arms, escorting him from the room.

With the remaining servants who were present for the death of their lord, Balon ordered rather plainly, "Summon the lords of the Iron Islands, we hold the Kingsmoot and Euron's trial in a fortnight, from there, the fleet sets sail, to reave and rape as the Old way commands."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Highgarden was filled with flowers, petunias and daffodils, tulips and dragon's breath, but most of all, roses of all shapes and colors. Though she had been a Tyrell far longer than she had been born a Redwyne, Olenna could not stand the overwhelming stench of the flowers. Alerie, though a former Hightower, had taken to the rose gardens far better than she, especially after Mace's death. Olenna had wed his son to the daughter of the Citadel eight years prior, hoping to give them more power within the Maester's guild and the inner parts of Westeros, yet instead she found a knitwit had married a fool, and she prayed her cleverness simply skipped a generation, and had not evaporated completely.

The marriage had produced four children, three sons and an infant daughter, a decent amount of security for a house with previously only single sons and many daughters, yet with Mace's death, his eldest son was made Lord of the Reach at the ripe age of six, and the Florents already were closing in, taunting of stewardship until her grandson came of age. The rumors and whispers had Alerie half mad with fear, and she channelled the widow's worry into the gardens, where Olenna plotted with a gaggle of nieces and their ladies as Alerie flitted from rose bush to rose bush, pruning the branches.

Crinkling her nose at the sight of the over sweet tarts before her, Olenna waved them away in favor of a sweet honeyed bread, and chewed thoughtfully as she watched a page boy enter the garden. He bowed lowly and then said, "A raven came, my lady, for the Dowager Lady of Highgarden."

"Which one?" Olenna asked dryly, "My good daughter is as much a dowager as I." The boy simply held the letter out to her, and Alerie continued with her roses as if the boy were not there.

There was no seal, simply a blob of wax in black, which snapped in half easily. The small scrap of paper held but a few words, " _When the Dragon is threatened, the Lion shall roar. When the moon rises full, the Squid shall wear the crown and cross the sea."_

Squinting at the words and cursing her weathered eyes, Olenna fought back a jump when Alerie spoke from over her shoulder, "What does it mean, mother?"

"My son is dead, I am no more your mother than I was when he was alive." Olenna snapped, crumpling the paper in her hands. "It means the stable boy did his job." It took a small mountain of gold, but the man had done his job well, the poor orphan boy could speak but a single phrase by the time her dungeon keeper was done, and he listened to instructions to the letter, ' _Sabotage the saddle, hurt her but do not kill her, and when you are caught, only repeat the phrase you have been taught: what is dead may never die.'_ Within a moon's turn of the boy being dispatched, rumors of the Queen's sudden taking to her rooms circulated, some saying she was with child, others saying her dragon scratched her, but Olenna knew the truth.

' _The Flower's Folly'_ She thought to herself darkly, ' _My son was a fool, but his death was no folly, it was backhanded and cruel, so I will return the favor ten fold.'_


	84. Chapter 84

A/N: Dreams are forshadowing/half baked plots that I haven't decided on for sure yet. Trigger warning towards the end/Lyanna and Diana bond over past torments.

Diana threw herself into her plots, scheming within the court in order to give herself order. Her dreams haunted her, men burning alive, a kraken drowning a black trout, three figures mounting a dragon with three heads, who breathed fire against a storm of ice, the grip of the Night's King's fist around her throat, the sensation of falling that left her waking up with a gasp half torn from her form. ' _You are too selective with your sight.'_ Brynden's words mocked her at every turn, so she shut out her visions to focus on the tasks at hand.

Highgarden had been suspiciously silent, to the point that Diana mused offering Mace Tyrell's infant daughter as a bride to Randyll Tarly's heir, Samson, Samwell, something along those lines, in exchange for bringing the castle under the crown's control. The flowers would stand no chance in battle, not when outnumbered so harshly, but the Reach had plenty of food for a siege, and Highgarden had looming walls, just like the Rock.

Both Lady Lyanna and Lady Catelyn had been assisting their Queen in the preparations for the feast of the Seven, and Diana was pleased to see the newest Lady Stark informing her good sister of what each day would entail, considering the recently made Princess of Lannister had worshiped only the Old Gods. "Does your family own a maiden's cloak?" Catelyn asked Lyanna with a hint of curiosity in her voice, "For the Prince to cloak you under his protection, your father removes the cloak of your maiden house to signify that he gives you to your husband till the end of your days." They were working on the seating arrangements for the feast of the Father, the final and grandest day, when Lyanna and Jaime would be wed in the Sept of Baelor.

The redhead sighed in a wistful way, clearly remembering her own wedding, but the dark haired woman next to her only scoffed. "In the North, our fathers do not give their daughters away as chattle, the bride walks side by side with her father, who announces her as a woman, noble and true, begging the blessings of the Old Gods for her marriage." Lyanna spoke with a clear pride for her heritage, though Catelyn looked slightly miffed at the slight on her own belief system.

"Does her husband not come forth to claim her, Lyanna?" Diana interjected, looking up from the list of the head table. "Surely in both ceremonies, the woman is given by her father to her betrothed, yet in both ceremonies, the bride must also speak the vows for the ceremony to take place." She plucked the place setting of Sandor from the seat across from her, moving him slightly down the table, next to Brienne of Tarth and smiled wickedly to herself before leaning back in her chair, watching the two Ladies continue their banter.

"Surely so, your grace." Lyanna admitted, "Though both ceremonies end with the same result, two people, bound together." It was her turn to sigh in memory, thinking of her own husband.

"Was your wedding as grand as the one planned for the prince and Lady Lyanna, your grace?" Catelyn asked, busying her hands with straightening out the rows of place cards before her. Diana had asked her to handle the seating of the Riverlords, and was pleased to see the names neatly aligned around a table setting, with notes on the large parchment before them on which ales and wines the servants should serve to which lords. Catelyn had reminisced of how her father would take her on trips through the Riverlands, visiting each lord and his castle, and her words made her wish to spend more time with her own children, Daemon in particular.

Alysanne had been spending as much time with her brother as Diana was, and the Queen knew her daughter had no love for place settings, so she asked the princess to spend time with the newly widowed prince, hoping their shared losses would help them to grieve. Just as Alysanne was quickly betrothed to Denys Arryn, Diana had no doubt Tywin would use the influx of nobles in the capital to find a worthy Lady of Harrenhal, though she already had someone in mind. Ashara Dayne had the same fire that Diana once held in her youth, and perhaps it was the wild Dornish beauty that Daemon needed to be happy again. Or perhaps the Bloodraven was right, she relied too heavily upon her dreams, pushing her favorite son into the arms of a falling star simply to fulfill a dream she might not even be interpreting correctly.

"Your grace?" Catelyn repeated, and Diana startled, the quick movement making Lyanna flinch.

Diana blinked, "I'm sorry, my lady. I lost myself in my thoughts for a moment, do you mind repeating yourself?" The Queen took a quick, deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the former Tully maiden before her.

"I simply asked if your wedding to the king was as grand as the Prince's is to be." Catelyn replied with an assuring smile, "I am sure it was lovely."

"Very," Diana confirmed, "We were wed in the Lannister Family Sept in Casterly Rock, just as the sunset. My mother commissioned a gown of white silks and myrish laces, with snarling dragons and prancing lions dancing across the hem, and just as the glow of the sun hit the painted glass figure of the golden lion above the altar, the door opened, and I walked into the room."

The Queen lost herself for a moment, thinking back to the day she became a Lannister, the day she became Tywin's wife. They were barely past being strangers, but she remembered the way he looked waiting for her, the way he looked at her when she smiled at him. "I was so nervous, I was half afraid I was going to trip on my skirts and tumble into the groom's arms!" She laughed then, and the girl's joined her. "But Tywin, I mean, the King, he was so cocksure, shoulders squared and chin tilted up, and when he looked at me, I swore the world only existed in his eyes. I barely remember saying the vows, but the warmth of his hands as they bound us with a lover's knot, I can never forget."

For all the rage the King and Queen of Lannister possessed, the fire never seemed to burn them, neither were truly capable of harming the other. Diana was Tywin's shield, the humanity he came home to, the velvet gloves that held the leash of his inner demons, and he was her protector, her sword, the darkest parts within her that her calmed simply by his presence, a monster who recognised another monster, and knew when to stop her from destroying herself. She loved Tywin because he knew every shadowy corner of herself and she of him, and they accepted each other's darkness with a silent revery, a promise to keep one another from going too far.

It was almost silly, there they were at the cusp of yet another war, the third in their time as husband and wife, and there she was, planning festivals and reminiscing of her youth, of a love that festered around death.

Diana shook herself from her thoughts and stared down at the seating arrangements once more. Both women before her had listened to her reminiscing and smiled at the end of the story, but neither spoke. When the silence dragged for a few minutes, Diana reached over to where Catelyn had been working on her table and plucked a name. "Lady Catelyn, tell me, does your uncle remain unwed?" _Ser Brynden Tully_ was written in neat script, and Catelyn had yet to place him at a seat, curious considering the seat next to the Lord of the house was open.

"Yes, your grace. He has refused many a maiden my father has offered him." Catelyn replied, a bit of a sour look crossing her features. It had been a bit of a running joke, quickly gaining momentum as time went on, that Ser Brynden preferred the company of men, for he had refused any woman to be his bride.

"Wonderful." Diana hummed, placing his name where Sandor's used to be while sliding the rest of those to his left down one seat to allow room for her to pluck the name _Lady Sirella Rykker_ and place it next to the Blackfish.

"Lady Rykker?" Catelyn asked the Queen, "Of Duskendale?" Cat's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Diana smiled demurely when she noticed Lyanna's shared expression.

"Lord Rykker is an older man, one who will no doubt send his only son to war in his stead. The man had four daughters before he had a son, and the boy is rumoured to be overconfident and underskilled…." The Queen glanced between the two ladies, and it was the wolf who understood first.

"As the only son, and a young man, he is probably not married, so should he get himself killed in battle, the eldest daughter inherits her father's lands." Lyanna deduced, "I take it Lady Sirella is the eldest?"

Diana smiled, genuinely pleased. "Very good, Lyanna, you shall be playing the great game in no time. Lady Sirella is a beauty, but a beauty with an overbearing father who will not accept a weak man for his daughter, at least, not again."

"She is a widower?" Catelyn asked, sharing a frown with the Queen.

"Time and war makes widows of us all." Diana replied, "Lady Sirella Rykker was Lady Sirella Celtigar for half a year. The Celtigars are an old and proud house, with the blood of Old Valyria in their veins and plenty of gold in their coffers."

"Half a year?" Lyanna asked, "Why only half a year?"

It was Catelyn who spoke, her troubled look pleasing Diana slightly, for it meant she was aware of who the Queen was speaking of. "House Celtigar has been led by Lord Aenys Celtigar and his Lady wife, Annalys for the past...eight years? I spoke to Lady Annalys at the welcoming feast for the King, she was a rather chatty woman."

"Very good, Catelyn, you are close. Lady Sirella has been a widow for nine years." Diana glanced around then, ensuring they were alone before continuing to speak, "Her husband was Lord Ardrian, the Red Crab."

"But the Red Crab was a man grown during the War of Nine Penny Kings!" Catelyn exclaimed, remembering the war stories of her father, who was a young man himself during the war.

"And after the Defiance of Duskendale, a new family was awarded the lands, and how does one secure a legacy in new soil?" Diana prompted, "Lord Celtigar was near sixty when he wed a maiden of fifteen, a wife whom he had no need of heirs from, simply someone to run his castle and warm his bed."

Both women looked horrified, but Lyanna seemed to pull herself together first. "To secure a claim, alliances are formed, the strongest alliances are those of marriage pacts, for the

children will share common blood and kin with the lords surrounding them, but no children came from wedding her to the old man, so why do it?"

"Because it is not just children that come from the match, the wife brings her own household, and runs her husband's as well." Diana reminded, "Lady Alyssa Velaryon arrived to Casterly Rock as my handmaiden, and left the Rock as the Lady of house Brax. The servants that followed me from the capital integrated into the household staff, and the customs of the crownlands blended with that of the West. My family name opened doors for the Lannister's that had been previously closed, and I have secured footholds in regions that previously were beyond my grasp. With marriage, comes power, with power, comes peace."

"Her father wed her to a man old enough to be her grandfather for peace, for power or for both?" Lyanna snarled, her temper flaring at the thought. "Does she have peace now, as a widower?"

"They say the man died in her arms, in the throes of pleasure, his heart simply gave out. Though, due to this rumor, no lord or heir will take her for wife." Diana glanced between the ladies then, "So she plays at being Lady of Duskendale in an attempt to prove to her father and herself that she deserves to be more than a brood mare or a curse, though I cannot help but wonder if she plays the game better than we think."

"You wish to introduce this woman to my uncle?" Catelyn asked, "A woman whose husband died in their marriage bed?"

"Both are two people with no wish to fulfil the expectations of their house, who knows? Perhaps the kindred spirits will grow fond of one another." Diana shrugged, playing off her latest ploy as a passing fancy.

"Uncle Brynden has no wish to be wed, your grace." Catelyn's frown never left her face, and she quickly rose and curtsied, "Excuse me, your grace, Lady Lyanna, it is time for my son to be fed." Like Diana, Catelyn fed her children from her own breast whenever she was able.

"Of course." Diana dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and quirked an eyebrow at Lyanna, who was glaring holes into the table before her. "Lyanna?" She prodded.

"Lady Sirella killed her husband, didn't she?" The she-wolf asked, "The old man never had a poor heart, merely a great amount of lust." Grey eyes blinked, and Diana wondered if she were about to cry.

"You are more clever than you let on, Catelyn was blinded by the implication of Sirella's suffering, not the consequences of what would arise from it." The Queen treaded a dangerous path, for neither had ever truly spoken of their own past tortures, yet from it recognised the pain in other's pasts. "There are many poisons that mimic an over excited heart, though I am sure Lord Celtigar's end was not a peaceful one."

"Did he deserve a peaceful end?" Lyanna lashed out, her anger seeming to surprise herself, though Diana was unmoved by it. The dark haired woman banged her fist upon the table, enjoying the rattling of the pieces on the wood, "After what he did to her? Dragging her into his bed, again and again?"

The hurt in her eyes revealed it was not Sirella that Lyanna was speaking of, but herself, and Diana helplessly watched as the girl crumpled into herself in her chair, a half broken sob echoing in the room. "Lyanna, I-" Diana faltered, unsure if anything she said would be helpful instead of harmful.

"What?" Lyanna snarled then, "Shall you tell me that he was a prince, that I was his by divine right? That a dragon will take what is his, with fire and blood?"

Her words startled the queen, and Diana shook with the memory of her brother's hands upon her flesh, his mouth hissing in her ear, ' _I am a dragon! A dragon takes what is his, with fire and with blood!'_ Pale as a ghost, Diana stepped back from Lyanna, who continued to cry softly to herself.

"I wish Jaime had brought him to me alive, I'd have allowed you to kill him." The words slipped from Diana's mouth, a thought she did not mean to voice, partially because she only halfway believed it. It was strange for Diana, for she was not sure how to see Rhaegar. As a mad man, a rapist who kidnapped Lyanna and plunged the Seven kingdoms into a war that led to so much death, or as her nephew, the charming man who took her daughter as his wife and promised her the world. She both loathed the man and grieved for who he used to be.

In truth, Diana flickered between wishing to return the man who made her daughter so happy to her and wishing to shred the beast alive with her own hands. There was no good in Aerys, he had always been cruel, spiteful and jealous, it made it easy for her to put his memory in a box and lock it far into her subconscious, to will away the memories of the month she spent as her brother's captive, his forced bride.

But looking at Lyanna, she realized that the woman had vilified Rhaegar to the same extent, only, she knew him first as a gallant prince, the same man Diana wished for Alysanne in a husband. Rhaegar was not just a monster, as his father was, he was a man, one who could charm his way through life. Some whispered that Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar, entered his bed willingly and happily kept it warm, it made the man the worst sort of monster, one who some doubted to even just that.

"And then what?" Lyanna asked between tears, "He would still be dead, and his past actions still present."

"Then perhaps it would give you closure." Diana replied, and before she could think to filter her words, continued, "To feel his life slip away, to regain the power that he took from you when he forced himself upon you. To listen to his screams and wonder if they tell of the same pain of yours as they echoed down the halls, where the knights who swore to protect ladies from all harm listen to your cries for help and turn a blind eye to your suffering. To hold him down in the fire and feel his skin melt away, the same way you thought you would every time he touched you."

Lyanna's sob hitched for a moment as a new wave of tears fell from her face. "It's true then, that the Mad King took you for a Salt Wife, and you burned him alive for it."

Diana did not blink, she dared not cower before her own deeds, "He attempted to burn me at the stake before my own husband, but I did not melt in the flames, I drug him into the very death he planned for me, and from his death came the rebirth of true dragons." There was a hardness in her eyes as she took Lyanna's hand in her own, speaking in a hushed voice as if they could be overheard, "Rhaegar was no more a dragon than his father, and now they are both ashes in the ground, the very dust beneath our feet. What he did to you, means nothing compared to what you will do with the rest of your life."

"I haven't spoken of it, to anyone." Lyanna admitted, "Jaime wants to act like everything is fine, as if we will go on like before the war and be a happy family, but he doesn't even mention the near year I spent with... _him._ "

"Jaime just wants to be happy, and he thinks that by ignoring the past, it will create a better future." Diana guessed, worried that in truth her son feared that speaking of Rhaegar would mean confronting the idea that the couple were simply not the same as they had been before the war.

"He has taken to Jon, never once...doubted." Lyanna faltered with her words, not daring to voice the idea that her son might be Rhaegar's seed. "But he speaks as if we have been wed for years, when we say our vows before the Seven in less than a fortnight!"

Diana glanced around warily, there was no need to confirm the fact that Jon was born on the wrong side of the sheets, not when she had paid a small fortune in gold to a stable boy to spread and confirm the rumor that he had witnessed Jaime and Lyanna exchanging vows before a weirwood tree. "Jaime takes after his father, he looks to the future and buries the parts of the past that do not agree with him. He does not wish to think of you hurting, so he focuses on a future that makes you happy."

Lyanna did not speak, and Diana wondered if it was because it was her son they were speaking of. The Queen walked forward, towards where the Lady sat and held out a handkerchief that she pulled from a sleeve, offering it to her good daughter.

"The past is a hard thing to sort through, especially the darker moments." Diana conceded, "I am here, should you need help working through it, but for now, let us focus on how bright the future is. Come, the children are playing in the nursery."

At the mention of her son, Lyanna brightens, and Diana is happy to see the maternal nature in her good daughter. "Of course, your grace." The former Stark takes the piece of cloth from her and dries her eyes before standing as well.

"Please, call me Diana when we are alone, there is no one here to impress." The words have a teasing tone, but Lyanna is surprised by them nonetheless, as the freshly made monarch seemed to preen under the use of her title.

"Of course...Diana." The name sounds strange on Lyanna's tongue, but the Queen thought it a bit too forward to ask to be called mother, so she simply smiles at the display of informality and loops her arm through the girl's own.

"Come, let us see how Visenya does at sharing toys, poor Jon did not stand a chance when he wished for her dolly." The Queen teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

Lyanna seemed to catch on, and smiled, "I believe the only word the girl knows how to speak is, 'mine!' as she hoards her playthings."

And so, the two women walked and talked of their children, choosing to focus on the future, rather than brood over the past.

A/N:

So the Celtigar story is one I made up, though the Red Crab is a real character. House Rykker had just won Duskendale, so alliances would be made, I simply fabricated the story of Sirella so Diana and Lyanna had something to connect with so they could share trauma.

I didn't want both women to go through such horrors, and then be fine afterwards, so I figured both would bottle it up and lash out, as seen here.

This chapter was to introduce the final arch of this story as it leads into the Greyjoy rebellion, I am working towards putting the pieces on the board for the war, and wanted to show Diana taking Catelyn and Lyanna under her wing to teach them how to play the Game of Thrones, and to show them teaching each other of their own cultures.

I'm debating on writing the Alysanne and Daemon scene that Diana mentioned, so if anyone would wish to see that, please leave a review saying so.


	85. Chapter 85

A/N:

As requested, but with a twist

Daemon was deep into his cups when his elder sister found him, and she looked none too pleased about it either. The middle prince of the Iron Throne raised his goblet before the princess, "To the Widows of Lannister." For a moment, he felt a rush of guilt when his sister flinched at his words, but he felt better once he drained the glass he had previously raised.

"Mother sent me, she warned you might not quite be yourself." Alysanne chose her words carefully, always aware of the proper way to speak, always a right and proper lady. Her Septa had trained her well. Lynda did not always choose her words correctly, and when she faltered her nose would crinkle in the cutest manner he had ever seen, and now he would never see it again.

Grief was a fickle thing, he tried to drown it in the heavy stock of Arbor Gold courtesy of his aunt, but even in times such as these, he felt it still. "Our mother the Queen, or our mother, Lady Diana?" He asked, and chuckled at the huff he got from his sister in return for his words.

"They are one in the same, though I believe you saw her as our mother, the Lady far more than our mother, the Queen." Alysanne replied wistfully, plucking his goblet from his hand and refilling it from the decanter, taking a deep swing before continuing. "You were always her favorite, you know. The most like her as well, a reader, a scholar and a schemer. Seven hells, you even write with your left hand as she does!"

Daemon laughed at that, for the Septa and the Maester had debated over that many a time, only for his sister's teacher to bring the fact that he wrote with 'the stranger's hand,' as she called it, to his mother's attention...for her to calmly pick up a pen with her left hand to write the woman a formal reprimand. "I'm sorry sister, should I not have doted on father as you always have? You are his favorite, even over his own heir, his little lioness." Daemon pointed out, pouting at the glass in his sister's hands for a moment before rising on wobbling legs to grab a flesh cup of his own.

Alysanne scoffed at him, sitting down upon the couch next to where he sat with a pool of skirts around her, taking up a majority of the seat. "Being father's favorite carries little weight, I have been betrothed to the Darling of the Vale."

He laughed then, "The tourney champion? He certainly is pretty, a year or so older than you, I would guess. I always assumed he was an Arryn of Gulltown, not of the Eyrie."

His sister scowled, her purple eyes clouding with anger as she shoved him harshly, sending him teetering off balance from a mix of her force and his drinking, and he caught himself on the arm of the couch. "Laugh all you want now, but being mother's favorite won't stop you from being wed within the year."

His mind swam with the image of Lynda, belly round with child, smiling before the nursery of Harrenhal. ' _This is where I spent my first summer upon this land, and this where our children will spend their first summers.'_ Pain shot through him, and he fought back tears at the memories of his dead wife's words. Childbed fever was a hell of a thing, it burned through her in a matter of hours, while his son breathed but a handful of breathes total before he left this world.

He couldn't stay in Harrenhal, not in Lynda's childhood home, not with her and their son buried beneath the castle, urns of ash in a row of the long dead, fellow victims of the curse of Harrenhal. "No." Daemon vowed quietly, "I will not remarry."

"A lord with lands as large as Harrenhal needs a lady, one to give him heirs, and spares and daughters to sell for the sake of alliances." Alysanne drawled sarcastically, pouring them both a fresh goblet of wine.

"Others take Harrenhal." Daemon replied, "The land is cursed with blood and death."

Alysanne raised an eyebrow at him, leaning back upon her seat and drinking him in for a moment before speaking, "My Septa often said that magic was a myth, only the healing of the Seven came close to true magic." She laughed, eyes dancing with mirth, "And then I watched mother drag her brother, the king into green flames and watched her walk out of the fire, naked as her name day and with Brightfyre curled upon her shoulders. Had Aerys not burned the poor lady alive, her face would have been priceless."

"When did it come to this, Aly?" Daemon questioned suddenly, "Referring to death and dragons as if they were common place, because, well, they are! What happened to arguing over who got the last sweet, or who could dive deepest into the watery shores beneath the Rock?"

"We grew up, I suppose." His sister deadpanned, "You are nearly sixteen now, Daemon, I nearly nineteen, and here we sit, widowed and alone. Is that what growing up is?"

"I want to go home, Aly." Daemon whispered, burying his face in his hands, tossing the goblet that once drowned his sorrows away. "Can we not go back to what we once were? When the realm did not look to us for leadership. What I would not do to simply sit in the library and read of the dragon riders of old, rather than have a mother with a dragon!"

"It is not so bad, I mean, with one dragon in the world, it means there is a chance to hatch another, and another, why, we could each have one…" Alysanne's wistful expression had dread pooling in her brother. "Should I play the part of happy bride, mother promised me a dragon egg…"

"An egg you don't know how to hatch?" Daemon questioned, barking out a laugh. "What shall you do, Aly, put it beneath your pillow at night? Sit on it like a mother hen?"

"I shall hatch it, with fire and blood!" She snapped at him, her confidence only causing him to giggle further. "Don't laugh at me, Daemon!"

"Forgive me, sweet sister." He reigned himself into simply smirking, "But I have read a few dozen books on hatching dragons, some from before the Doom itself, and the most basic method is something you are not capable of doing."

"Oh?" Alysanne questioned, narrowing her eyes at him in such a way that Daemon thought Tywin Lannister had grown a set of breasts right before him, "And just what I am not capable of doing?"

Daemon heaved a sigh, refilling his discarded drink simply to give him time to watch her squirm with impatience before continuing, "More women than men have successfully hatched dragons because they place the egg in their child's cradle in the evening, and place it in the fire during the day, some even bleed their wrists upon the egg once it is removed from the flame. Either way, a dragon usually follows a child's birth, and you have no child."

"The Vale will need an heir." Alysanne spoke after a beat of silence, her words reluctant but with a hint of defeat to them. "I'm sure it shall be expected of me to give my husband a child. Perhaps I shall have a whole litter of daughters...just to spite him."

Years of being the younger siblings to the twins had left him invulnerable to Alysanne's many traps of self pity that she would set when she was upset. As a younger man, he had fallen into them many times, especially when his older sister would begin to cry, but he refused to now. "I'm sure Father would love that, he'd betroth my second son or Jaime's to your eldest daughter and turn the Wardens of the East into Lannisters." He replied dryly, "Seven hells, if father had it his way, Lannister blood would flow in the veins of every lord paramount!"

Alysanne giggled then, her cheeks flushed from the liquor, and smiled at him. "It's easy to see now why the Targaryens married brother to sister, so much less of a hassle with worrying over which family is good enough to be wed into." Her words ended in a sniff, and Daemon grinned when he realized she was attempting to mock her father's words, he had heard often enough that no one but a prince would be good enough for his sister.

Tilting his chin back, Daemon squinted his eyes into what he hoped looked like his father's narrow stare of disappointment, "Come-into-my-castle? Why would you allow your enemies inside, just flush them out with their own mines!" His voice was far deeper than Tywin's but his sister snorted with laughter and they both resisted giggles.

"Tywin!" Alysanne's voice was far too shrill, and Daemon realized she was mocking their mother, "We do not talk about war and violence in front of the children! We must set an example, with our fine silks and our charities." She flung a strand of hair over her shoulder, haughty attitude on full display.

"Now dear, we must be lions!" Daemon attempted a growl then, but his voice cracked and he covered his face with his glass of wine as he drank deeply. "Golden lions with claws of blood."

"And what if I wish to be the blood of the dragon?" Aly asked, her eyes alight in a way Daemon had never seen, as if fire danced in their depths. "To see the bloodline pure, children not bartered off to a foreign land, but kept home, kept safe."

His mind wandered back to Lynda, to her sad smile before she passed, to the seven days he spent in vigil before his wife and son. Dropping the facade, he sighed and leaned against his sister's shoulder, "I want to go home, Aly. We deserve to go home." His hand gestured to the rooms his mother had deemed his, far too grand and opulent compared to the simple chambers he kept in Harrenhal. "I miss the Rock."

Alysanne smiled sadly at him, wistful and boneless from their drinking of liquors, "We deserve to be happy, Daemon, to never worry about being pieces on someone else's game board." She turned to him, their faces a hairs width apart, and Daemon swore she had never looked so beautiful.

He had grown up in the twins' shadows, the spare heir, always looking up to his older siblings, but always remaining behind while they were put on display by their father, the next lord of the West and the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, who was he compared to that? A pawn, meant to secure the Riverlands, and he failed in even that. "You deserve to be loved, Aly, not sold to the first prick with a kingdom."

"Then let us make each other happy…" Her words were a whisper on the wind, and Daemon kissed her before he could change his mind.

A/N:

So I did not even expect that ending. I started this chapter with sibling bonding and stupid jokes in mind, and it devolved into a new plot point that will cause major issues for everyone in the sequel haha.

I couldn't help but think of that Cersei scene where she is talking to Jaime and is like, "The Targaryens wed brother to sister for centuries, how could we be so awful as a couple?" And it got me thinking, what if like Diana's Father, some of her children wish to keep the old tradition of incest alive?


	86. Chapter 86

Balon glared down at his brother, enchained and drenched in the spray of the sea as they stood at the docks before the younger's ship, _The Silence._ The men of the ship were loyal to his brother and only him, but the lords of the Iron Islands looked to Balon for guidance, for answers to the crime of his father's death. "Euron of house Greyjoy, you are charged with the crime of kinslaying, the murder of your own father, the Lord Quellon of house Greyjoy, how do you plead?" Balon's voice was a drawl, a step forward in his grand plan, one that his brother had put into motion, surprising them both.

"Aye." Euron agreed, blue eyes alight with something akin to joyful madness from bloodlust, "Drowned him in his own soup, he was no true Ironborn, not like you, Balon."

"Lord Balon!" A voice in the crowd of grim faced lords corrected, but the man accused only grinned.

"King Balon!" He challenged, tilting his head back so that even from his knees, he was boastful and filled with hubris. "I name Balon my king!"

Grumbles erupted then, turning into whispers and then into shouts. Balon raised a single fist into the air, silencing them in a moment. "There has been no kingsmoot, and there shall be no kingsmoot until after the trial."

"What trial?" Euron asked with a bark of a laugh, "I admitted it, I am guilty! I killed my father and I am proud to have done so, he was weak! He was no true Ironborn, he took only Salt Wives, he conquered no lands, simply sat at his table and drank broth, commiserating over his growing family, it was pathetic!"

"Bring me the spoon my father last ate with." Balon ordered, and a boy that served a lord scurried away to fetch it, and when he returned with it, Balon took it from his hands and held the battered metal aloft. "Euron, our father's dying words were that he would rather live to see his children and grandchildren grow old than die for glory, so you killed him for cowardice. You took away his sight for the future, so I shall take part of yours. Do you favor your left eye, or your right eye?"

"I aim with my right." The second son replied flippantly, half baiting his brother to fulfill the threat promised to him. "So take my left if you must. I shall pay whatever price, considering he never paid the Iron price in his life." Balon did not speak, simply thrust the metal into his brother's eye as if he were peeling a grape, and with a drawn out howl from Euron, the elder brother half blinded his kin. Euron raged silently, the gouge in his face weeping blood the way tears never had. ' _It had to be done.'_ Balon thought to himself, trying to assuage himself of the guilt quickly blooming within him, especially as Lord Roderick Blacktyde strut forward and splashed a bucket of salt water onto his brother's face, causing him to scream out in agony as the salt stung his flesh.

"Euron of house Greyjoy, you and any man who chooses to follow you, is hereby exiled from the Iron Islands. You wish to be Ironborn, but your people have shunned you. Rape and reave all you like, but the Iron Islands will never be the soil beneath your boot again." Balon's voice was sharp as steel, cutting through the crowd as he hauled his brother to his feet and pushed his stumbling form towards his ship.

Aboard the Silence, mute men stared bleakly down at their one-eyed captain as he was lead up to them, none dared to move or attempt to leave, only stared in blank understanding of their fate. Euron had collected his crew through his youth, cutting the tongues out of the thralls he used as sailors and bending their will to his own, they would follow him even in exile.

For weeks, they sailed at a harsh pace, working around the clock in shifts with short breaks, and fear filled the men. Euron only ordered them to do so when he knew the deaths caused by overworking his men would mean little to him, for soon enough, new thralls would take their place. The Captain hid in his chambers for the first week of their travels, yet ventured aboard the deck more and more often as the sight of land, and the looming castle carved from the face of the rock itself grew nearer. He had been plotting, the crew hearing the shouts of rage and threats of death as the hole where his eye once sat was cleaned and kept from infection, snarling of how he would seek his revenge.

Finally, a day's sail from the Westerlands, the sleek and nondescript vessel barring a simple golden rose upon a green field anchored next to _The Silence_ and a messenger boarded. From his curly mop of brown hair and stocky figure, he was a Tyrell, no matter how distant a cousin to the main branch, and held the sealed letter of the Queen of Thorns. "The old bitch was right, my father was weak." Euron stated with a curl of his lip.

Shaking like a leaf, the Tyrell boy held out a tiny box with rose designs, surely the family had spent a small fortune on bloody rose motifs. Euron snatched it from his hands, and opened the lid to find an eye patch in the shape of a squid, it's legs twisting and wrapping to serve as the straps, and the green boy seemed visibly relieved to see the piece of craftsmanship over his gaping wound rather than simply barring it in the open. "My lady was pleased to have your word of an alliance between house Tyrell and house Greyjoy, my lord." The boy bowed quickly, "I am Ser Willas Tyrell, cousin to the Lord of the Reach, Willas Tyrell."

Euron barked out a laugh at the same names, "Not too creative with names, eh? I suppose when you fuck your wife that many times, she's bound to pop out more kids than you care to name." Willas seemed to pale at the slight, but he had no spine to contradict Euron. He truly was his sigil, a wilting flower. "Word reached us that Balon was crowned King by the Lords of the Iron Islands not long after I was banished," There was a bitter lilt to his words then, "Where is what I was promised?"

Despite his parlor, Willas smiled then, "They are waiting upon the docks, my lord." Euron was no lord, not anymore, but he did not contradict the boy.

"You introduced yourself as a Ser, are you joining us tonight, or does it conflict with your vows of chivalry?" Euron asked half in jest, and the queasy look on the boy's face caused him to laugh, "Best get the fuck off my ship then, blood pours down the decks tonight."

The knight scurried away, and Euron prepared for what was to come, tying his hair back from his face into a knot at the nape of his neck, fastening his sword and daggers to his hips and donning a fresh, dark linen shirt. Fastening his belt into place, he drank deeply from his ale and then sighed before heading up to the deck of the ship. The tiny Tyrell ship had long since disappeared, and the sight over the bow of the ship that greeted him was much greater.

It was easy to see the wealth of the West in Lannisport, for even as the sun set, the streets by the dock bustled with life. He had commanded the masts be lowered and replaced with simple merchants sails before they reached the docks, and as Lady Olenna had promised, the man who controlled the ships leaving and arriving into the harbor had let them pass with a dark look of foreboding in his eyes that had Euron growing more and more excited. It was a spark of evil on the Queen of Thorns part, and not even the darkest she had planned, he assumed, but he played his part nonetheless.

As they docked, the men worked to secure the ship to the dock allotted to them, and hid their swords in barrels as they departed, into the market street that served as the main road from the docks into Lannisport and Casterly Rock beyond, on one side sat the Sept of Lannisport, the other a collection of merchants selling their wares. The influx of grim faced men caused people in the market to pause, only for those who previously seemed eager to sell their stocks turned and reached into their possessions and brought out weapons of their own, and began to openly slaughter the people of Lannisport.

It was chaos, and Euron thrived in it, whetting his sword with the blood of the West, listening to the screams as the soldiers of the Reach revealed themselves as the market dwellers themselves and turned on their fellow man. The Captain stared up into the sky, where the sun had barely begin to set, and cut a clear path towards the Sept of Lannisport.

Everything had happened so fast, the Septons had barely begun to scramble inside when Euron burst through the doors, slicing throats and killing any soul he came across in his quest to the private upper floors of the Sept. Euron jogged up the stairs, breathing heavily as his adrenaline high pushed him to run faster towards his prey. The slam of the wooden doors hitting the wall echoed as Dorna Lannister jumped from her kneeling position at his presence, a sitting duck...or rather, a sitting chicken, considering she was once a Swyft.

It was just as he had been told, Lady Dorna prayed at the Lannisport Sept every day at sunset, when the stained glass showered the figures of the Seven in a glow, it made their plan seem too easy. "Who are you? Where are my guards?" Her voice was high pitched and frightened, and Euron grinned at her.

"Poisoned with the sweet wine of Highgarden, really shouldn't accept free wine, but from a man dressed as a Septon?" Euron laughed at his own joke, and taking a fist full of the woman's hair, slammed her head against the wall before taking her onto his shoulder. She was no true lioness, but he would take one for a Salt Wife soon enough. He let his men rape, murder and steal from Lannisport as he made his way back to his ship to have some fun with his captive, thinking how it was such a shame that he only had time for Lannisport, and not the Rock itself.

A/N:

Sorry this took forever! I wasn't sure how I wanted to end it, and school just started back up for me (Senior year of college, whoop whoop!). Unfortunately, it does not end well for Dorna, her fate to be revealed in the next chapter, though a vague hint as to how she dies horribly is dropped in the end of this chapter.


	87. Chapter 87

Diana was determined to make sure everything was perfect. It was a strange, overwhelming desire for her, as if her crown rested solely on a festival, yet in a way it did. In the days after her coronation, the whispers were sparked and she wanted to weep at the words being spoken, ' _the last Targaryen Queen,'_ the nobles seemed to bask in her discomfort at the title, for it was a reminder that she had crossed her own kin for a crown. Sometimes, when she knelt for prayer in the private, royal sept that only seemed to hold her prayers as of late, she would smuggle in the small portrait of her sister and niece, and weep before the statue of the Mother and beg for forgiveness. If the Silent Sister Diana personally placed in charge of the small, round room with intricate statues of the Seven heard her words or smelt the salt of her tears, her face held no proof thereof, and the Sister had not spoken a word for most of her life and would continue to hold the Queen's secrets. It was ironic a way, the small folk called her husband not only the Royal Lion, but the Stranger made flesh and here she was, allowing weakness only to be shown in front of a woman who had taken a vow of silence in order to serve the god of Death.

She had been spending more and more time praying as of late, for her dreams were dark. In her youth, Diana used religion as a pawn in her game, basking in the praise of Septons when she rode to Lannisport's Sept and prayed before the Seven with the eyes of the smallfolk upon her. She was nowhere near as religious as Dorna, her good sister, who had taken up Diana's weekly pilgrimage and transformed it into a daily feat while she played the part of Lady Lannister. The former Swyft was a good and gentle woman, soft spoken and sweet, a perfect match for her good brother Kevan, especially after the Reynes and Tarbecks were put down. It was a political match in Tywin's eyes, to show goodwill to the people of the West, but to Kevan it was the chance to marry the pretty girl with a kind smile, and Diana was happy to arrange the match. It was a shame the pair could not come for the festival, as Dorna loved all festivals of any kind, but she had recently given birth to a daughter, Janei, and thus the family had opted to stay at the Rock and would travel when the babe was older and stronger, to present the entire family to the court. Already, Kevan's eldest son Lancel, had been on the tongues of wagging nobles, wishing to wed their daughters into the new royal house, even if it was not the main branch.

Everything was progressing as it should, the feast of the Crone would mark her youngest son and daughter's first name day, and the twins were presently being dressed for the occasion by the small army of nurses and a daughter of a green apple Fossoway, who seemed to fall over herself in an effort to prove her family's loyalty and hopefully inherit Cider Hall for her younger brother, though the girl was not daring enough to voice such hopes. Everything was as it should be, almost perfect even, yet her visions of the future haunted her. It was a spiral of the same things, of her sweet little twins toddling towards Brightfyre, only for the dragon to open his massive jaw and rain fire down upon the babes, of a chicken entering a sept, only to come out a lioness who is attacked by a group of soldiers in Lannister cloaks, golden thorns blooming from their hands, clawing at the beast, ripping away her skin until feathers bloomed underneath instead of blood and bone, the creature screaming all the while. When the tortured animal attempted to flee, she found herself at the base of the cliffs over the Rock, the ocean rising and swelling only for a kraken's tentacle to reach out, dragging the feline into the depths of the storming seas.

She tried to forget the shrill cries that haunted her nights, but the sound seemed to echo through her day, causing her to jump when no one was there. Was this how madness begins? Surely, Aerys showed signs such as this in his youth. But she loathed to think of her brother, the one who made her a kinslayer before she made herself Queen.

"Your grace, are you ready? The breakfast shall soon begin." The baritone of Tywin Surefoot was muffled between the door that separated him from his Queen, and she swept across the floor to where the wooden barrier stood and wrenched the handle open to reveal the knight.

Upon the sight of her, he bowed lowly before offering his arm to escort her. She frowned slightly at this, and quipped, "Good Ser, I am afraid you are not the Tywin I was expecting to escort me to break my fast." She and Tywin often broke their fast together in the mornings, basking in the quiet of their new chambers while reading over what they needed to handle for the day, and it was he who insisted they enter feasts and the like together, a display of unity as he called it.

Surefoot, for his part, seemed uneasy then, and Diana pinned him with a steely glare, staring him down until his resolve cracked, she knew the boy, or rather the man, would never hold out long against her. "There was a small commotion at the docks, it seemed a gift arrived from the Tyrells…"

A gift? She furrowed her brow, and lifted her thick shirts so she could walk briskly and ignoring the offered arm of escort, bustled past the knight and down the stairs towards the direction of the docks. "What gift would the roses send to us? We sent them their lord's head upon a spike!" Anger flared within her then, and she found herself petty for being so enraged that her children's name day could be ruined by the Tyrell's, or anyone for that matter. She had her dress imported from her favorite seamstress from Lannisport, Tywin Surefoot's sister, who had spent a moon embroidering the Crone and her lamp leading the way through a path with Casterly Rock upon her gown. It was glorious, a silver satin with the lamp stretched out across her front on one side, and the richly detailed castle winding up her hip to create a full effect no matter which angle it was viewed. And her hair had just grown back enough that she could have it spun up into an elaborate updo, with large, glittering clear gems catching the light and causing her silver hair to glow. The hairpins were a gift from her Kingly husband, who smiled ever so slightly at the sight of her in them whenever she surprised him by wearing them. Everything she had been planning for months was to come to a head, and no Reachmen would corrupt that.

"Your grace, wait! Please!" Tywin rushed to her side, his armour creaking with the movement. "The King specifically stated that he would address this, without the aid of the Queen." She halted in her tracks, only to glare hotly at the knight.

"Are you to be sworn to the Kingsguard, or the Queensguard, Ser Surefoot?" Her words were whispers, hissed as she pressed an accusatory finger at his chest. Upon the day of the Warrior, the new royal guard would be announced. Seven men to guard the King, seven to the Queen, and seven to each prince or princess, which meant that with every royal birth or wedding, a large melee would be held and the best men would be selected to join the ranks of the royal guard. Diana knew she wished for Surefoot to lead the Queensguard, but she needed to know that he would be loyal to her more so than the King.

Tywin seemed to understand her message quite clear, for he held out his arm once more in offer of escort, and when she linked her arm with his, he spoke, "It was a grand chest, fitted in gold and precious stones, they say, but the sailors who brought it to shore refused to speak a single word, only offered a sealed letter with the Tyrell rose upon green wax."

Diana frowned at that, hiking her skirts higher with her free hand so the mud of the walkway did not cake her skirts. Dread, thick and dark, coiled up her spine and settled behind her heart, lurking with a fierceness that rattled in bones. When a servant passed by the pair as they exited the inner parts of the Red Keep, Diana ordered him in a soft voice, "Tell Ser Clegane to go to the young prince and princess, he shall sit next to them at the head table." The boy must have worked in the kitchens, for his flour covered hands shook as he bowed before the Queen and mumbled out, "Yes, m'lady" before scurrying off before she had the chance to correct the title. No doubt whispers would begin at that, the Queen's dog sitting with her children, sword ever present at his hip, under her orders of course.

The docks were a long ways from the castle proper, yet instead of leading her to the stables to saddle a horse, or towards the courtyard to board a litter, Tywin directed her towards the Mudgate, a lesser used gate where the greying blond hair of her husband stood out amongst the dark haired knights around him. He was dressed in the grey doublet with gold stitching and a cloak of the same that Diana had selected for him, and she preened at the sight of him. Where she might have been doubtful upon her first meeting of her husband, he had proven himself fierce over the years, a true lion who knew the value of the hunt, and the hooded gaze of his green eyes when he saw her approach made her feel a gazelle in the lion's den.

"I specifically told you that I did not require the Queen's presence." The King glared at the knight, who simply turned his gaze upon Diana as if to ask for rescue. Tywin's frown deepened at that movement, and his face morphed into a snarl but his wife interrupted him before he had a chance to continue his berating.

"Require, dear husband? I don't think I have ever required you, nor you, me." Diana deadpanned, leaving the arms of Surefoot and sliding next to her husband, she stared at the men who hauled the great casket shaped box before them. They strained under the weight of the gift, yet not even a grunt or a whisper left their mouths.

The knight had not lied, the box was made of sturdy wood and wrought with gold, yet she was surprised to see that it had roses blooming on one end, only for the petals to change into the swirling waves on the other end, and from the sea, a great kraken with tentacles leaping from the wood itself menacingly, serving as the lock to keep the lid closed. Diana's dread worsened, and a single glance at Tywin revealed the tension in his jaw, the thrum of his pulse in tune to the vein upon his neck that only popped out when he was angry. They only needed a moment to look upon one another to realize they had come to the same conclusion, their enemies had allied together.

"Have you opened it?" Diana surprised herself with the quiver within her voice. Was it her dream, haunting her even when she was awake?

"Not yet." With a wave of his noble hand, the silent men dropped the box, and as the others backed away, one moved to open the lid. A terrible squeal filled the air, and Diana resisted the urge to burrow into Tywin's form at the sound, for it mirrored the squeals of her vision. They both stared into the box for a moment, utterly confused at the sight before them. "...Feathers?" Tywin asked after a moment, taking a single step forward before horror bloomed on his face, and he blocked Diana's view from the box with his own body.

"What is it?" Irritated, she went to move past him, only to hear another painful scream, and realize that the sound did not come from opening the box, but from inside the box itself. "What is it?" She pressed, half afraid to truly find out.

"Pl...ease...kill...me…" The broken, scratchy voice came from the box, and Diana pushed past her husband before he had a chance to stop her, and her knees fell out from under her. Upon a bed of roses and dark, iron filled sand, lay her good sister Dorna, her skin tarred and feathered. Bile rose in Diana's throat upon the stench of rotting flesh that greeted her as she moved closer, the heat of fresh tar filling the air.

Her stomach moved to expel its contents, yet she had not eaten yet that day, so only bile and spit flew from her mouth. Tywin seemed to have moved from his position of horror to a mask of steel resolve as he drew his sword and deftly shoved it directly into Dorna's sweet heart, killing her instantly. Diana watched from her position upon the ground as the light left Dorna's eyes, though they never closed, only stared at her in blank king seemed to move with purpose as he cut down one of the men who had carried the box in, and soon the knights loyal to the Lannisters had killed the other three as well, who seemed to simply stand there, expecting this outcome, indeed they stood rooted to the spot they stood around what all knew now to be a casket, resigned to their deaths, relieved almost.

It was Ser Surefoot who sheathed his sword and moved towards the Queen first, but she flinched like a spooked animal, and it was her husband who bundled her into his body, surrounding them both in his golden cloak, hiding her weakness in his strength. She began to weep, for the death of Dorna, for the perfect name day she had planned for her children being ruined, for the war that was surely to begin after this stunt by their enemies. Tywin held her for a moment before pulling her so that they were facing one another, and straightened the small, delicate crown she had chosen to wear that day. "I will kill them all for you, Diana, and for Dorna." His words were a growl, and the cool calculation behind his eyes told her he had already begun to plan.

Yet all she could think of was how much of a fool she had been. Tywin had argued that she was paranoid for leaving greenboys to defend Lannisport in favor of sending the seasoned warriors to protect the Lannister family themselves, and he had proven her right. And yet, even when she had made a mistake, he would still avenge their family, his pride would allow no less, and she smiled with teary eyes upon her husband, her royal lion. "I was a fool Tywin, the Rock is an army of stone, I should have kept our family inside the inner keep at all times, not simply flesh out the guards within the walls at the cost of the port city. "

Green eyes glared coldly at her, it always amazed her that with children and a grandchild of their own, Tywin still possessed the ability to make her feel like a child. "This plot was much more than a difference of a hundred guards," His face morphed into a snarl, and Diana dared not correct him that the number was five hundred men, she simply wrapped her fists around the grey silk of his doublet as if the layer of cloth that hid them from the world were made of stone, and it was but the two of them, alone and not surrounded by the dead as they were hauled off by the living. "We should have learned of this far before their ship sailed into the harbor." His brow furrowed further then, logistically it would take far too long for them to sail around Westeros, yet if they cut through the Reach for safe passage on land, a raven should have flown to them at least a week before. Diana and Tywin both stayed silent for a beat, mulling over how the Tyrells and Greyjoys could have done such damage without the royals knowing about it.

"Ser Tywin," Diana addressed her sworn shield, slowly pulling away from the comfort of her husband's arms and the warmth of his cloak, "Fetch the Spider to the King's Solar and send someone to ask my son and good daughter to begin the breakfast in our name, but do not tell them what has happened."

The loyal knight nodded and though Diana did not see for herself, she heard her husband curse under his breath, "Seven hells, they are from _The Silence."_ She turned her gaze to where he looked and her breath caught in her throat, one of the pole bearers lay with his throat cut, his slack jaw revealing a gaping hole where his tongue should have lay. Tywin tightened his grip as he began to lead his wife away from the scene, not saying a word all the while.

Arm in arm, the King and Queen returned to the Red Keep in silence. Diana stared at the looming red stones before her, remembering the warmth they held when she and her sister bathed in the sun as children. With a sad smile, she recalled how their Septa would scold them, and Rhaella would defend the younger sister's antics, claiming her to be the only sister she would ever have. It was before either were betrothed, and the Septa quoted the book of the Mother to them, stating that when they wed into their husband's house, his sisters and sisters by law would become their good sisters and they would show them the ways of their married house as a true sister would. How strange it seemed, to think back upon her youth, when Genna taught Diana of the pride of house Lannister, and Diana in turn brought Dorna under her wing when she became a Lannister bride, while Rhaella lost her only sister and gained none in return. Was she cursed to lose every sister she ever loved, was Genna next? Paranoia, she knew, was all it was, but it did not prevent her bones from rattling with worry.

The guards, known in her mind as a blanket name of the Red Cloaks, seemed to follow the royals more closely than before, wary of threats appearing from thin air. Tomorrow, the new guard would be announced, tomorrow the call to war would come. It was not until they were within Maegor's Holdfast that a perfumed scent and a swish of silks filled the hall they walked down, and before the door to the King's Solar stood the Spider, a hint of worry mixed with amusement painted upon his face. "Your graces! I was just about to seek you out when Ser Foot sought me out in your stead." The smallfolk never caught onto her sworn shield's given name, so many of Varys's little birds recalled him by his livery, Ser Foot or even the Golden Foot, and the Spider in turn had done the same.

Diana wished to rant and rave at the perfumed man before her, draw her husband's sword and point it to his neck, demanding answers all the while but Tywin's fingers grasped her elbow where they stood as a united front, a squeeze invisible but felt put pressure on her skin, a silent warning. Not daring to look either man in the eye, Diana allowed herself to be led to the large backed chair that served as the seat behind Tywin's desk, plush red velvet with golden stitching revealing the value of the chair, though one had to admit, it was clearly the King's chair. Yet he did not sit upon it, but guided his lady wife into the arms thereof, standing behind her, his looming shadow casting upon where Varys stood. "Explain yourself." Tywin commanded. There was a primal aura cascading off of her husband and Diana could feel the heated stare he doubt was giving to Varys, though both men did not speak a word.

"My king?" Whenever Varys spoke it seemed to be in a simpering, almost whining tone, Diana and Tywin had a shared hatred for it, and no doubt the two of them shared the same, disgusted expressions upon their faces.

"Dorna Lannister is dead." Tywin deadpanned, Diana flinched, despite her attempt not to. "Brought before us as if a gift! Explain yourself!" The lion was roaring at the end and Diana feared the war had reawakened the same viciousness Diana had seen within her husband when the Reynes and Tarbecks rebelled,yet the thought of taking tongues from young maidens did not seem so horrid anymore, not with the scent of Dorna's charred flesh still clinging to her nose.

Varys, for his part, seemed properly spooked, for with wide eyes and a hush voice, he informed them of what his little birds had told him, "I thought it a wild rumor, as it should have made it's way openly if true. My birds, they whisper of a great sickness falling upon Lannisport, people weak and fevered, from the small folk to the Lannisters themselves. Surely, if it were true, we would have had word."

Tywin seemed ready to lose his temper, Diana felt the weight of his presence behind her expanding, becoming more threatening as he huffed. Her kingly husband was known for his tactical brilliance, yet someone had out maneuvered him, the question was who. Both the Tyrells and the Greyjoys had allied against them, but neither lord of the house was in a position to play such a move. Lord Tyrell was eight-year-old Garlan, while Lord Greyjoy was a man who barely left his own island, let alone bothered to scope out Lannisport.

The door to the solar burst open after three quick knocks in close succession, "My King! My Queen!" It was a servant of good clothing, perhaps a page boy from a noble house. "There is a woman, she claims to have the children of Lord Lannister on her person, Ser Surefoot is with her now!"

"Lancel and the twins?" Diana asked, her hands shaking at the thought, what twist of fate was this?

"Who is this woman who claims to have brought my kin to the capital?" Tywin snarled, completely ignoring Varys, who seemed happy to slither into the shadows.

"Ellinor Surefoote, mi'king." The boy seemed nervous, as if he were answering the question incorrectly.

Diana pushed past them both, grabbing the startled servant by the arm, "Take me to my nephews." She used her most queenly voice, which had the boy jerking to attention despite Tywin's visible sign of displeasure.

"Diana, we do not have time for your coddling, if the boys are here, we must find out how and why they are." Tywin commanded of her, causing Diana to frown.

"Do you think me so incapable that I can not do both?" Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be, causing her husband to glower at her darkly, mainly because it had caused the Spider to smirk...so much for a unified front.

Tywin sighed at her, Diana felt as though she could see the gears twisting and turning in his brilliant mind, before finally waving his hand in a blantant move of dismissal, his eyes holding a challenge. She could argue with him, in front of the cowering servant and smirking Spider, or she could see to her nephews and Sworn Shield's sister.

Plastering a smile upon her face, the same one she used when flattering courtiers, Diana curtsied deeply before her husband and then raising herself to the very tips of her toes, she kissed his cheek and whispered lowly in his ear, so softly only he could hear, "After our kin have been seen to, we will discuss _this_ in our chambers."

Tywin simply smiled placatingly at his wife of nineteen years and straightened the crown that had tilted slightly on her head and she whisked away from him before her temper was lost completely. All these years and he still made her feel like a child.

The servant boy led her to a small hall close to the Lion's gate, where shivering next to a freshly roaring fire, three figures sat in a half circle, huddled together around a fourth, smaller bundle. Dirt and mud caked them beneath the thick furs, so much so that she had a hard time discerning their hair color, that which had once been a honey wheat blonde now seemed almost brown. Diana stood at the open door, watching the three boys shiver and cower together, while a woman just as dirtied as them came forward with a tray of warm spiced milk and meat cakes, Lancel's favorite food and the twins' favorite drinks. If they were imposters in the night, they knew their roles well.

It was Ellinor who noticed her first, for the tray she was half way to placing down came crashing with a rattling sound onto the table as she hurriedly moved to curtsy, "Lady Lannister!" Faltering further at the sight of Diana's shortened hair and crown, the girl blurted, "Your grace!"

The children seemed to notice her for the first time, the twins rushing from their seats and latching themselves onto her silver skirts, while Lancel cradled the bundle against his chest, a soft cry emerged from therein, and Diana realized that it was little Janei. Placing her hands upon the top of the twins' heads, the children began to weep softly, pressing their dirty cheeks against her soft satin skirts. She bent her knees and took them both into her arms, not daring to ask if they knew the fate of their mother or if that was something she would be forced to inform them of. Lancel seemed rooted to his spot by the fire, clutching his sister, a babe too young to travel without a wet nurse, yet there she was, seemingly fed and happy despite her dirtied clothes.

Diana focused on Willem and Martin with a mother's precision, caring not that the tear tracks upon their little faces were already soiling her skirts by mixing with the mud that caked their cheeks. She shushed and cradled them, whispered soothing words from her spot by the door, the servants bustling silently as they gathered hot water for the little ones to bathe in, no doubt watching the interaction unfold in silent judgment.

"It was awful, Auntie!" Willem was the first to speak, his sniffles subsiding under Diana's care and she smiled at his informality. He was at the age where he should call her his lady aunt, but in his distress she would not condemn his word choice, he was but five name days after all. "Mama promised us...if we were good we would go to the capital." The boy's voice trailed off as he realized that was indeed where he was, despite the circumstances that led to his arrival.

"Lady Dorna dropped the boys off at the shop, normally I would travel up to the castle proper for their fitting, but she was on her way to the Lannisport Sept and the boys were tired of being cooped up in their rooms." Ellinor spoke up, "The nobles had all hidden themselves away, trying not to get sick." The rueful smile upon her face revealed that the attempt was not successful.

"Sick?" Diana echoed, eyebrows furrowing as she plucked a linen handkerchief from the pocket of her gown, gently fussing over the twins while Lancel remained stoic by the fire with his sister. Her thoughts were racing, she had heard no word of illness, another thing that irked her. How could she rule from the capital when the ancestral seat of the Lannisters seemed to be crumbling without her even being aware of it?

The wood resting within the fire make a large snapping sound, causing those in the room to jump. A servant silently gestured to the next room, where the steaming tubs for the children to bathe within laid before she silently slipped out of the room. Ellinor seemed to become less wary at the absence of one servant, so Diana dismissed the others as well, instructing warm towels and fresh linens to be brought for the children. When Martin began to shiver once more from the chill that would not seem to stop clinging to his bones, Diana cradled both children against her chest as she moved towards the adjoining room. Lancel, who had yet to speak a word, launched to his feet to keep his siblings in his eyesight at all times.

A weight settled upon the occupants of the room as the children stripped themselves of their clothing as the Queen rolled up her sleeves, dipping her fingertips into the water to test the temperature. It was not as overwhelmingly hot as Diana prefered her own baths to be, but she was not the one to be bathing either way. Even though there were two tubs filled two-thirds of the way full, the twins splashed softly into the same one, causing Diana to smile despite not meaning to. Perhaps Tywin was right, when it came to children she was too indulgent.

A small splashing sound echoed across the walls as the two women each focused on one of the twins, setting about bathing them. Diana had bathed her own children more than once, she enjoyed the comfort that came from the action, the subtle sense of intimacy that flooded her senses when she did something so domestic in nature.

"Father wanted us out of the castle." Lancel's shaking voice surprised them, his eyes darted to look at his aunt for a moment before settling back upon the boys in the tub. "I was hiding, I wasn't supposed to be in his solar, but I wanted to show him how good I can hide, so he could see I was good at seek-and-find." Diana felt an ache begin to grow in her heart as she remembered how Alysanne loved to play that game, for she had discovered many underused passageways and secret hiding areas, while Jaime loathed to have to seek his twin out, for he never could seem to find her unless she allowed herself to be found.

"Wylla grew ill, so mother took us with her to go pray, but we wanted to get sweets, not pray to the Seven." Lancel continued his tale, referring to their nursemaid, "So mother took us for clothes, promised that after we were fitted we could stop by the docks to buy sweets from the man with the colorful clothes."

"With purple hair!" Willem interjected, the bath water was quickly turning dark from the mud that washed from him, though he seemed not to mind as he splashed it about as he talked. "He is from Branos!"

"Bravos…" His twin mumbled, splashing their shared water at him. Diana knew the man they spoke of well, Vylan Breakspear was a seaman from Bravos that could have easily been killed for smuggling, had he not been smuggling goods for the Lannisters. It was he he who had begun to bring strange rock-like candies made from sugar specifically for the Lannister children when they were at the docks and word had it Ellinor had been more than happy to take the children for Dorna. She had begun to give him a handful of extra coins per moon when he did this, though neither mentioned it to one another. Diana had even considered using the man to smuggle Rhaella out of Dragonstone, but the man was Tywin's creature before he would ever be hers, and she knew that the only people in Lannister lands more loyal to her than her husband were the relationships she had personally cultivated over the years.

"Lady Lannister promised that she would return within two hours, but less than an hour after she had left, it began." Ellinor interjected, not looking up from her position across from Diana, her hands making quick work with a piece of soap and a rag, scrubbing at Willem's skin softly. "There was a sickness, no one could figure out it's root, people would burn with a fever, be left running to the privy every few moments, some driven mad by it, striking the poor and the rich alike. At first, the maesters were able to seperate the ill from the well, but within a week half the city was feverish and weak. The sickness fell fast and people began to die, the old and the frail first." Her eyes glossed over, hands stilling of their movement, "Miss Jeyne was one of the first to pass on."

Sitting with but the tub of water between them, both crouched on their knees and working to clean the children, Diana suddenly felt as small as Ellinor, if Jeyne had passed, then surely her mother Nina had as well. Diana still possessed the golden and black embroidery of her personal sigil, one that had been created for her wedding breakfast all those years ago.

"Then the soldiers came." Lancel's voice seemed to small, his green eyes flickering like wildfire with the reflection of the flames from the hearth, "The roses and the salt men." The room seemed to grow silent except for the overwhelming sound of soap being dropped with a heavy thudding splash into the water.

"Salt men?" Diana echoed, her voice dangerously soft. Ellinor seemed to understand her look, for fear settled upon her face.

"They brought the scent of the sea with them, your grace." She replied, "Salt hung heavy in the air as they raped and reaved." Ellinor chose her words carefully, allowing her message to come across without startling the children. Her tone was heavy with dark connotation and Diana felt all the pieces fall into place at once.

"Ellinor…" Diana's voice trailed off as she stared at the girl, a silent question hanging in the air.

"No, your grace!" Ellinor shook her head vigorously, "Vylan protected us, smuggled us to Stony Sept and secured us passage with a ship filled with fine goods for the prince and princess's nameday!" Diana's eyes narrowed at this, surely the man would be looking for a large chest of gold for his troubles.

"How...generous of him." Diana pondered aloud, raising to her full height as Ellinor busied herself with the twins, suddenly unwilling to meet Diana's gaze. Janei began to cry, not allowing herself to be comforted by her brother and Ellinor's face softened the way only a mother's could when a child was hungry. The silver-haired woman stared for a moment at Ellinor's chest, her eyes calculating. How long had it been since she had last seen Ellinor? Over a year, surely, but even then her chest was nowhere near as womanly, her breasts seemed swollen even.

Diana insisted on feeding her children from her breast whenever she could, despite the negative social connotation, though even she had a handful of nursemaid's to assist her who were able to feed the children as well, so she knew the sight of a woman able to sustain a child from her breast. "Did Vylan require anything for this noble deed?" The timing was off, surely, as it took more than a few moons for a child to grow, but Ellinor had the body of a mother without a babe of her own. Ellinor did not look her in the eye and Diana seethed silently.

"Lancel, when the twins are done in the bath, I expect you to bathe as well." Diana's words were crisp orders, though he seemed loathsome to submit to them. "I shall watch over Janei for you, do not worry." The babe gurgled at the sound of her name, her face rosy beneath the cloth she was bundled in.

With a stare to serve as a silent command to follow, Diana whisked herself out of the room with Ellinor trailing behind her. Three guards in red cloaks stayed within her shadow, sent by her husband no doubt. The creak of their armour and stomp of their boots echoed down the red stone of the keep as they moved through the halls. "How long ago were you with child?" Diana's bluntness surprised even her, though she would admit she had no time for dancing around the truth.

"My daughter met the Stranger the night before I fled with the children." Diana turned to face Ellinor, seeing the same lost look that Daemon once held when speaking of his dead wife and child.

"Trueborn?" Once the words left her mouth, she regretted them. A dead child was a dead child, no matter which end of the sheets she was conceived upon. Ellinor nodded though, so Diana continued, "Vaylar's?" Another nod, causing Diana to simply stare ahead as she thought the information over. Vaylar was nearly fifteen years her senior, though a wealthy man who travelled often, allowing her freedom and wealth, so it was not too awful a match. Once her brother was settled down, Diana had planned on finding Ellinor a husband with land or a knighthood, someone honest and true. Someone who did not smuggle goods for a living.

"Tywin does not know, I fear he would run my husband through." Ellinor simpered, her voice holding a silent plea for silence that her brother would not know of her loss, of her marriage. Her brown eyes filled with worry, "Lady Dorna promised patronage to the shop, even after Jeyne and Nina's passing, she insisted on checking in on us, but when she arrived that morning, I found myself unable to part with Janei…"

The girl seemed about to weep openly, so Diana flung open the nearest door, finding a small dining room with a servant preparing to set the table, "Out." She ordered, and the youth bowed before scurrying away. The guards flanked the door, two outside and one checking within. Once they were without outside eyes, Diana embraced the girl as if she were her own daughter, cradling her against her chest as her hands brushed through Ellinor's hair, shushing her softly, for the act of intimacy caused her to begin weeping.

They stood like that for a few beats of Diana's bleeding heart, not Queen or servant, simply two women working through the deaths of loved ones, of a child and a woman grown plucked by the Stranger too soon. Revenge, a seething, boiling emotion took root in her chest as Diana whispered, "I shall kill every Tyrell and Greyjoy in the Seven Kingdoms, their ashes shall decorate the graves of the fallen." Ellinor seemed to pale at Diana's words, though she dared not voice her worries before the Queen, whose deep purple eyes seemed to glow with promise... a promise of fire and blood.

A/N:

I'm awful, I know. I promised updates like a month ago and never did. My laptop took a shit on me, so I had to wait to get a new one, which I did just in time for finals (so many papers, ugh). But I'm back, with a hella long chapter to boot! I wrote myself into a corner earlier, so it took me a while to figure out how to write myself out.

So the Tyrell's did something to make the people in Lannisport and Casterly Rock ill, any guesses as to how they did it? I'll give you a hint: without Tyrion there to fix it, the problem only grew while Tywin and Diana were away from the Rock.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed during my period of writer's block! You guys mean the world to me 3


	88. Chapter 88

Jaime was not one for being the center of attention at a feast. Sure, he had won tourneys before, usually crowning his sister the queen of love and beauty to keep things simple, he knew better than to give a random lord's daughter a crown for fear she would expect a marriage with it. He was the future king now, but it was Lyanna who would be his queen.

Sandor had approached him with his usual solemn face, though his eyes held secrets that promised to be shared over cups of ale, no doubt. He warned the crown prince that his parents were indisposed at the docks, and that he should lead the feast of the Crone that would celebrate his youngest siblings name day. The nobles still sneered at the sight of his son, sitting with his little aunt and uncle as Lyanna and the Brax girl watched over them with help of servants. Lyanna was resplendent in grey and silver, her house colors, her long hair tied back in a hair net with white and red jewels. Jaime was the last to enter, though no one had started to feast yet since the king was usually the one to begin such things.

"My noble lords, my good ladies." Jaime began his speech before he even reached the head table where his lady wife awaited him, raising a glass of dark Dornish wine, "Before we begin the celebration of my dearest siblings' name day, I would like to say a few words, for the feast of the Seven has brought me much perspective, and I have been doing more praying than I ever have before."

He paused as a Septon raised a glass and shouted, "To prayer!" As if he were rooting for a knight in a tourney. Other nobles followed suit in drinking when their prince did.

"As a child, my mother, the good Queen Diana, would read to my siblings from the Seven Pointed Star, or tell us parables there of." Both Daemon and Alysanne stared at him, unsure of just where he was leading them, though neither contradicted him. They then glanced at one another before looking away quickly, as if sharing a gaze were improper or suspicious. "As the product of a lion and a dragon, my mother warned us of the greatest flaw shared by both our families: pride. So she would often tell us the parable of Icarys, a boy whose father was blessed by the Smith with the ability to create fantastic things. The gift was such a rarity that a greedy lord locked both father and son away in a high tower...so that only he might profit from such inventions. Weeping, the father called out the Seven for help, to the Mother to look after his son, to the Father to make him a better one himself, to the Warrior for courage, to the Stranger so that he might spare them, to the maiden for mercy, to the Smith to allow him to give up his gift in exchange for his son, Icarys's life, and finally, he called to the Crone, to light her lamp and show him the way."

Lyanna seemed to listen the closest of all, for the only tellings of the Seven Pointed Star she had heard were from the past year or so, as she was a believer of the Old Gods. Smiling softly at her, he continued, "It was the Crone who answered their prayers, and appeared before the man, asking why he would ask to give his gift of inventing away, when it was the only thing that would save his son? So she raised her lamp and the light became the sun above them, the only shadows that of the beasts of the air. Suddenly, the man was struck by insight from the Smith, and he constructed great wings that would allow both he and Icarys to escape, using wax and feathers. Together, both father and son strapped the man made wings upon their arms and backs, and leaped from the window to fly to safety."

Jaime swung out his arm at that, the gold of his goblet catching the light, his audience hanging on his every word, "But the Crone's advice was a warning as well, for Icarys had pride in his father's invention, so much so that he ignored the warning calls and flapped his great wings closer and closer to the sky, and the heat of the sun. He ignored the pleas of his family and was blinded by the beauty of the shining light, which melted the wax of his wings and he fell from the sky, into the arms of the Stranger." Dropping his raised arm, the crowd fell into a hush as he turned back to his wife, "You see, my mother spent years warning me of my pride, that because I am able to do something does not mean I should not think the consequences through. Just as Icarys was blinded by the beauty of the sun, I was blinded by my love for Lyanna of house Stark."

Lyanna raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp, she had no idea of the little speech he had been preparing. It was supposed to be for their wedding day, but the spotlight was handed over early, so he chose to do it then. "This beautiful woman had been promised to me, but I was impatient, enraptured by her beauty, so I chose to allow my pride to take over, and I wed her the first chance I was able, in front of the Old gods of the North." It was a lie, though it was better than the truth that their son was a bastard, all the gold in Casterly Rock could not get him to strip his son of the title of his heir. "So before you all, I plead forgiveness and thank the Seven for their mercy, I thank the Mother and the Maiden for my wife being returned to me with a healthy babe, for the Warrior and the Stranger allowing me to win in battle—-"

"The Dragonslayer!" Sandor interrupted with a booming yell, cheering Jaime as others echoed the sentiment.

Jaime smiled and nodded a thank you to his brother in arms, "To the Father, whom Lyanna and I shall be wed before in two days time, and to the Crone, whose feast we celebrate now, and whose lamp shall continue to show the way!"

"Here here!"

"To the Crone!"

"To Prince Jaime and Princess Lyanna!"

Rickard Stark glared hotly at Jaime, his good father had not been keen on the idea of them being wed before the Seven, the lord of Winterfell believed that there was no need for such pomp and circumstance in order to please gods he did not believe in. Though Jaime believed that the true anger lay with his good daughter, as the newly made Lady Stark had insisted upon being wed in a Sept before consummating the marriage, so she and Brandon had been married in two separate ceremonies, one in a sept and the other in the Godswood.

"Lannisters may shit gold, but you've got a silver tongue." Lyanna whispered in his ear as she embraced him, glowing with pride and beauty. Clothed in the decadence of the south, she shined like dragon glass.

The couple shared a grin, clinking glasses as the feast officially began. As the guests began to approach with gifts for the youngest royals, a nurse passed off the siblings, Lyanna happily holding Aemon while Jaime held Visenya. The little girl cooed at Jaime, content to wrap her fist in his tunic while her brother yanked happily on a stray lock of Lyanna's hair.

With the children resting on their laps, Jaime and his bride thanked the people who presented their gifts to the children, though he idly wondered what a one-year-old would need with a cask of white wine from White Harbor or a prized hunting dog from Starfall. It seemed only those with small children came prepared for age appropriate gifts, while others simply used the occasion to display their wealth.

Sandor approached when the line died down, the guests happily feasting on the food and drink provided, giving them a semblance of privacy despite the overfilled space.

"Ser Sandor!" Jaime greeted with a raising of his glass, "Do you know what my dear mother is up to? You always were one of her favorites, a loyal dog nipping at her heels." The man he grew up with all but growled at him, and as Lyanna elbowed him in the side, he knew he had been perhaps a bit too much in his cups.

"You've not heard then?" Sandor asked in a low voice, his eyes following figures moving about the crowd. Jaime mimicked him, watching Peter Baelish and the Spider conversing to one another in hushed tones, one grinning, the other smirking.

"Heard what?" Lyanna asked, frowning when Peter looked her way. His wife was not a fan of the Lord of the Fingers, and had made so very clear, much to the satisfaction of her brother and good sister.

"Surefoot is with his sister, the guards of the Golden Gate are chattering about a woman with a Lannister seal and three small children, two boys and a wee babe." Sandor replied, his face dark and grim. "Was Lady Dorna not expecting when her last letter arrived?"

"Where are they now?" Jaime asked, setting his cup down and handing his sister to a nurse, who then took his brother from Lyanna as well.

"Where is who now?" Alysanne, seeking to escape her betrothed dreary boasting of winning a tourney in the spring past, had quickly latched onto Sandor's arm as if he had escorted her before Jaime purposely.

"It seems our dear cousins have come to the capital, sweet sister." Jaime drawled in response, though he kept his voice down in fear of prying ears.

"That would explain mother's absence, but fathers? It is unlike the king to miss a chance to converse with his sycophants, I mean subjects." Alysanne had a dangerous look in her eyes, one that seemed to be ever present lately, it worried his twin.

"The royal apartments are sure to house your cousins, and your royal mother as well." Lyanna interjected, "And the halls have less eyes and ears." She glanced about, suspicious of the servants carrying food and drink, of the nobles chattering nearby, perhaps she was not as ignorant of politics as he thought she was.

"Then let us retire." Jaime moved to exit the room, with his wife, sister and knight following suit. Damon moved to follow them, but was stopped by Alysanne.

"Someone from the royal family should remain. Stay here brother, you are the most eligible bachelor in all the realm, you're sure to be missed." Her words dripped with honeyed sweetness, her hand seemed to rest easily on her brother's back for a moment before she snapped it away abruptly, as if remembering where she was. Had Aly been drinking as much as he, or was he the one seeing things? Jaime shook his head.

They had barely made it out of the throne room when Tywin Surefoot appeared, his face a mutating mix of rage and sadness. The knight bowed quickly before the royals, though he could not look anyone but Sandor in the eye.

"What happened?" Lyanna and Aly spoke in unison, but it was his sister who grabbed at the piece of paper clutched in Tywin's fist.

"The water is shit, the flowers come by sea, the kraken aides." Aly read the note allowed, or so Jaime believed until Lyanna grabbed at it and they stood side by side to read it, but the blasted thing was written in High Valyrian.

Surefoot seemed to pale, "I recognise your uncle's hand, though I knew not the message." Their mother had taught them both the language, but only his twin had mastered the written aspect and not just the spoken.

"It's jibberish!" Lyanna exclaimed, turning to Alysanne, she frowned at her good sister, "Are you sure you've translated it correctly? It is quite shaky, as if written in a hurry."

Alysanne glared at Lyanna, her father's stare that gave them all chills, "Would you rather translate it, my lady?" The dripping sarcasm made Lyanna frown and for a moment Jaime thought the two might fight then and there.

"It means war, the Tyrells have not made a move to bow to the crown, the Greyjoys too. When was the last time we heard from Casterly Rock?" Tywin Surefoot asked, his face troubled. Alysanne charged towards him, fierce as the lioness she claimed to be, grabbing a fist full of the older man's tunic.

"The Rock has never been overthrown. My parents have left two thousand men in their household guard alone, we would not lose that easily." Aly snarled, pushing away as if in disgust as she began to pace. "The war is over, father promised." Though she did not voice it aloud, Jaime knew the end of that sentence, Aly had been told to marry for peace, yet here was more war.

"Where is my father?" Jaime questioned the knight who bore the same name as the man in question, who frowned further, walking before the prince and bending his ear.

"Dealing with the body of Lady Dorna, she was tarred and feathered, presented in a box before their majesties." His voice was a whisper, though Jaime's face betrayed his horror, as both Lyanna and Alysanne soon mirrored his expression.

"Take me to my father, Ser Surefoot, Sandor, take my wife and sister to my mother if you please." Jaime ordered, marching down the hall before anyone had a chance to argue. It was a perk of being the crown prince, being able to depart without argument, though he wondered how long such a thing would last.


	89. Chapter 89

"Cousin Jaime!" Two sets of arms wrapped Jaime's knees, little heads barely reaching his waist. He had dared not to think of what had become of his little cousins, yet there they stood, freshly bathed, judging by dripping Lannister blonde locks and slightly oversized shirts. Willem and Martin had grown so much since he had last saw them, Lancel even moreso, especially in his eyes, hooded and untrusting, still clutching his baby sister.

"Boys!" Jaime mustered as much fake cheer as he could, patting them both across the top of their heads. A wet nurse simpered with apologies, taking the boys by the hand and pulling them back before curtsying, causing the three youths to all bow as well.

"He is your prince now, not just your cousin." Lancel's hard voice adonished, surprising Jaime. Had they been at the Rock when it fell, seen what had befallen their mother?

"I will always be your cousin, Lancel. Are you well?" Jaime wanted to go immediately to his father, he had no time to comfort children, but they were his blood and perhaps he could gleen what had happened from them.

"As well as one can be, considering our home is no longer our own." The twins turned solemn, on the verge of tears at their brother's words, Jaime frowned.

"Casterly Rock is the seat of our family, they shall hear us roar. But for now, King's Landing is your home. Go, I'm sure the servants have prepared your rooms near the nursery, Janei will be most comfortable resting with her cousins." Jaime tried to placate then but Lancel only clutched the babe tighter to his chest, giving Jaime the sense that the babe would not leave his arms easily. "You may go with them, of course. But right now, I need to go see my father."

"A Lannister always pays his debts, I owe death to the Tyrells and the Ironborn." Lancel whispered the words, so softly Jaime strained to hear them, but he nodded just the same.

"As do I." Jaime replied, nodding at the wet nurse before walking away.

"He is what, five namedays, six?" Tywin Surefoot spoke up for the first time, "Too young to be thinking of death that way."

"The cause of his mother's death was most likely kept from him, but he is too clever not to know she is dead." He was a Lannister after all, clever to a fault. Jaime's face turned grim, he knew the ways of his family, he had heard the songs, ' _And now the rains weep o'er his house, but not a soul to hear'_ An entire kingdom and a half worth of death awaited them in the future, rivers of blood caused by Lannister swords and dragon's fire.

"May the lady rest in the Seventh Heaven, her sweet soul at peace." Surefoot murmured before whispering a prayer to the Mother. His Lady Aunt had always been king to Sandor and Tywin, the same as his own mother had, there would be much to grieve.

They had been told the king was in his chambers, but when they arrived the red cloaks were numerous, a young guard quickly opened the door and announced his arrival. King Tywin was behind his desk, glowering at a map of Westeros, frown deepening when he flicked his gaze towards the two men.

"Were you not ordered to have my son begin the feast?" Surefoot lowered his head at the question, causing Jaime to walk forward.

"And I did, only to learn of the reason why. Are we preparing for another war, father?" Jaime was wary of it, the idea of having to once again don armour, to leave his soon to be princess and their newborn son and heir, all because some krakens had decided to ally with flowers and go against the new pecking order.

"War has already been set upon us, presented as a gift. The Stranger grows hungry for more blood, if the Tyrells wish it, then they shall have it." They would announce it after the pomp and circumstance of the feasts of the Seven, he had already decided.

"A message arrived, from Uncle High Valyrian of all things-" Jaime replied, causing his father's stone face to frown, it was a message meant for the Queen, he realized then. "Alysanne translated it, 'The water is shit, the flowers from by sea, the kraken aides.'"

Tywin's finger moved to the water surrounding King's Landing, tracing the shores. He turned to the sworn shield, "Tell the Queen to go to the feast, make sure she is seen for a good amount of time, then tell her to move her beast to the shores, see if she can get the creature to circle the waters." If their enemies thought the dragon was but a rumor, let them quake in their boots at the sight of it.

"Yes, my lord." Tywin bowed and quickly fled the room, causing Jaime to roll his eyes. The man was his elder and yet was afraid of Jaime's father more than most.

"She will want to ride him into battle, the same way Rhaenys and Visenya did, how else would my sweet sister be named, mother loves her warrior Queens." A rare smile flicked across Tywin's face at his son's words, Diana had considered the name Nymeria as well.

"I will not allow it. The Queen will stay in the Red Keep, even if I must lock her in the Maiden Vault myself." Tywin replied, "Come, let us talk strategy." He beconed his son forward. Jaime was proud his father wanted him to help, but it was Aly who was the better strategist. Yet wars were fought in armor, not skirts, so he stood at his father's side.

A/N:

Holy shit guys, I haven't updated this in over a year. I got some reviews begging me to update and with the last season coming up, I figured why not. Sorry it's short, it's super hard to type on a Spanish keyboard haha. When I finally update again, it'll probably be in Aly, Daemon or Diana's POV.


	90. Chapter 90

Daemon stared into the depths of his goblet, pondering if people would whisper if he had another glass. He had been pairing each glass with a small plate of food, taking his time to avoid wary glances but all he wanted to do was get drunk. Staring at little Visenya next to him made him ill, for her Targaryen coloring reminded him of Alysanne, of what they had done, of what could come from it. Would they think the child was Rhaegar's or the new Arryn heir if she were to get pregnant from their night together? Had she drank moon tea? The questions swirled in his mind, a darker cloud than even the news of Casterly Rock falling to the Tyrell's. He had wanted to go home for so long, yet now he might never be able. Would his blood litter the fields outside of his ancestral castle? Or would he be sent to wine and dine other lords into sending their men to die in the Lannister's stead. Perhaps father would fetch him yet another bride from the allies they would need to retake their homeland, a welcome distraction from the image of Aly in that tight dress she wore to the feast before going to look for their mother. Where the hurt of Lynda's smile as she breathed her last had been, Aly had replaced with the image of her feral smirk from above him. She rode him like an animal that night, clawed his back as the pain distracted him from his dead wife and child, he wanted to forget again, but with his sister? Father would beat him bloody if he knew just how much of a Targaryen he was turning out to be.

"Forgive me my prince, would you take the little prince for a moment, he is awfully fussy at the moment and seems to be reaching for you." Lady Talla Banefort, the daughter of Mother's former handmaiden who now served his sister and youngest siblings, seemed to have it in her mind that he was her equal, despite the differences in title. He had seen her once or twice over the years, when she would travel with her own mother and brother to the Rock to see the Lady of the Westerlands. Just because they had played Come-into-my-Castle once or twice when they were small did not make them friends now.

Aemon's little fists reached towards him but he continued to cry and repeat "no! No! No!" whenever Talla attempted to soothe him. With a grunt of a sigh, he took the boy from her and the babe ceased crying almost instantly. He stared up at his brother with giddy green eyes and gurgled a laugh, causing Daemon to smile for the first time in a while. His dead son had purple eyes and a small mane of dark hair, so it hurt him to look at Visenya or Jon because he saw his lost heir. He did not wish to ever return to the cursed halls of Harrenhal, though he knew one day he would have to. For now, he contented himself by holding his brother on his name day and sipping wine from a goblet that cost more than his servants made in a year.

"You are wonderful with children, my prince." Talla said softly, a blush covering her cheeks. Daemon frowned at her praise, she was staring at him as if he were the Father himself, her affections towards him would go nowhere, he would not even humor her.

"Much better with my brother than you appear to be." He might as well have called her a harlot and sent her to a Sept to join the Order of the Mother, the way she paled and ducked her head in shame. Was this what power felt like, dark but delightful?

"Forgive me, Prince Daemon, I did not mean to trouble you with the babe, I can take him back-" Talla began before he cut her off.

He attempted to recreate his father's cold stare, which appeared successful enough, considering the way she cowered further. He had always mimicked his mother's mannerism, but he had no time for honeyed words and sweet smiles to get his way. "The prince is fine where he is, in fact, we both are. You are dismissed, go and do whatever young maidens do, dance and flirt with knights who want your maiden head and not your hand." The words had more bite than he intended but she fled as he had wished.

From across the room, he watched her go to make an exit only to be stopped by a man in blue...Arryn blue. Already a group of maidens surrounded him, offering condolences for the death of his rival, who had passed in a riding accident that was malicious, though no one dared to say such things aloud. There were whispers though, wondering if the King or the newly made heir had given the order. Talla had smiled brightly at him, which was shared by the Lord. Bouncing Aemon on his knee, Daemon decided the strutting falcon was no good for his sweet sister, would never satisfy her the way he had, the way he intended to continue doing.

A/N:

I was rereading the last few chapters and forgot just how many strings I had left dangling, waiting to be tied. I left y'all with them kissing but they did wayyyyy more than that haha.


	91. Chapter 91

A/N: Valyrian is used in this chapter, sentences formated " _like this"_ are in Valyrian

Diana was not sure if her pace seemed peaceful, she was trying to appear sereen and unbothered but all she wanted to do was run to her chambers, to where her husband, her king, her lion was no doubt prowling around maps and figures of grain and soldiers. But she was the queen, she could not lift her skirts and run, nor slip through secret passages as she did as a child, she needed to be seen, calm and aloof, as if there were not a war brewing in the south.

"Mother!" Alysanne all but screeched, she clearly needed to give the girl a lesson on poise. "What is going on?"

" _Calm yourself!"_ Diana hissed in high Valyrian. " _The walls have ears and the hallways eyes!"_ Varys had his little birds everywhere, but she highly doubted any spoke high Valyrian, perhaps a gutter rat or two that spoke the low version, but not high. It was not just because of their heritage that she had taught her children the ancient tongue, it was for moments like these. Even Kevan had sat in for a lesson or two over the years, while Tywin had learned it simply because he once served as her brother's Hand and needed to know what he said when muttering under his breath. He had confided in her once, that he often rambled about burning people alive, a thought that still gives her chills, for it made her think of poor, young Viserys.

" _And the water is shit and the roses come by sea, aided by iron!"_ Alysanne snapped back, crossing her arms. Her eyes softened though, becoming a touch watery as she asked in a hushed tone, " _Is Aunt Dorna really…?"_ She could not even finish the sentence, she simply ducked her head.

Who had told her? Surefoot? She had half a mind to run him in two for telling of such woes to anyone, even her daughter. It was news that should have come from her directly, in a gentle way, not spoken in a rush. Diana only nodded, wrapping her daughter in an embrace as warm tears wet the shoulder of her gown. " _Shh, it's alright, little lioness, she is with the Mother now. No doubt being showered with praises in the seventh heaven."_

" _She is with the stranger!"_ Aly sobbed, chest heaving. Her poor girl, too young to be a widow, too young to feel such loss.

" _There is nothing we can do for the dead but honor their memory...and avenge their passing."_ There was a fire in Diana's eyes, a spark of revenge that she planned to nurture just as she had her own babes. Brightfyre was growing larger by the day, he could easily eat more in one meal than everyone at the feast. Would he enjoy the taste of men battered by salt? Or perhaps he preferred the sweet taste of roses. There was a voice in the back of her mind that whispered that Aerys could have conjured similar thoughts, but she pushed it away. This was not blind madness, this was for her family, to protect her kingdoms, her home. Dorna's funeral would be for seven days, and Diana would stand vigil for each one, and then she would climb on her dragon's back and take back the lands of the Reach and the Iron Islands, with fire and blood.

" _Father will kill them all, won't he? Rip them out of their lands, root and stem."_ Aly asked after a beat of silence. She withdrew from the safety of her mother's arms and dried her tears, though her face had made it clear how hard she had been weeping.

" _I will make sure of it, my love."_ Diana vowed, takign her daughter by the hand. " _Come, let's get you cleaned up, we must still attend the feast."_ They walked arm in arm to the royal chambers yet just as they were about to enter the king and queen's quarters, the door opened to reveal Jaime.

"Mother, sister!" His voice held surprise but he spoke loudly, as if to alert someone else to their presence. He appeared to be on his way out the door, yet instead he backed further into the room to allow them entrance. As Diana had predicted, Tywin was glowering over maps and figurines of sigils, face grim as a gargoyle. "My Queen." His voice was hard but had a softness of affection in the undertone, one mirrored less so as he continued, "Alysanne." It hurt her heart, Aly had always been her father's favorite, his little princess, yet her reluctance to wed the Arryn heir had caused a rift between them.

Diana curtsied ever so slightly, "My King." Tywin was a man of pride, so small showings of submission pleased him. She knew she was his better, only slightly more so than his equal, though to him the positions were reversed. It was a game they had played for many years, flattery and power intertwining with love and lust. Though admittedly, the latter had dwindled since their coronation, she loved her husband but the touch of any man recently had made her wary.

"I was just sending Jaime to escort you back to the feast." He did not look up from his map, slender fingers sliding a figure of a lion across the paper. "We must keep up appearances that is well."

"By using the crown prince for an errand boy?" Diana replied with a raised brow. She crossed the room to the desk and pulled a red dragon figure from the discarded pieces that once symbolized the assets of the crown under Targaryen rule and placed it near the shores of King's Landing. "Your tactical skills are renowned, my love, I will ride Brightfyre where ever you deem him needed." She smiled in a flattering way but Tywin frowned in response.

"If the dragon will obey, he shall lead the army, but I will not allow my wife to don armour over her skirts." His tone was final, causing Jaime and Alysanne to share wary glances, it did not take a Maester to know how this conversation would go.

"Did not Rhaenys and Visenya ride into battle atop dragons? A dragon has but one master, one mother, I will not cower in a keep while our kinsmen fight and die for the crown atop my head!" She had began speaking calmly but by the end she was shouting. "Brightfyre will allow no other rider and you would leave your most powerful weapon behind, for what? The idea of a woman in battle?"

"Out!" Tywin barked at the twins, who had already been slowly backing away towards the door. They scurried out, no doubt to press their ears towards the door, straining to listen. "You are not going Diana, I will lock you in the Maidenvault if I have to, but you are not going!"

She pressed a finger against his chest, jabbing with each word, "Yes! I! Am!" Diana was halfway shaking with rage, "I will salt the earth with the blood of the Reach and the Iron Islands, I will not allow for anymore unneeded death! I won't allow them to take anyone else away from me!"

"If you ride Brightfyre, you are painting a target on your back, they will kill you! I won't allow them to take you away from me!" There was an edge of fear in his voice, a paranoia in his eyes that drenched the fire of her rage. He grabbed her gently by the shoulders and the initial shock of fear from past trauma was soothed by the fact that it was he who was holding her, her lion, her husband. His hand moved up to her hair, stroking it as if in fear she would disappear before his very eyes. "I almost lost you in that fire, I will not lose you on the field of battle. The capital needs a ruler in my absence, the babes need their mother with them, you need to be here. You are not just my wife, you are the queen." It was a side of Tywin she only saw when they were alone, a brokenness he hid from the world because he was the Stranger's Hand, his cruel and stoic persona kept the kingdoms in line, though it seemed two of them would need to be made an example of.

They stood in revered silence for a long stretch of time, simply basking in the presence of each other, the delicate intimacy she had feared they would never share again after her tribulations at Aerys's hands. "Okay." She aquised, only half sure she should be agreeing to such things. "For the children...for you, I'll stay."

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to those who reviewed and messaged me about the story, it's what makes me want to write 3


	92. Chapter 92

Olena took a twisted sort of pleasure in knowing that Dorna Swyft had met her end in a gruesome way, though she would have prefered to have done so to Gemma Lannister, who had wed Olena's brother, the traitor who stood with his good family rather than his blood family. So many plots...so little time. She had sent her grandchildren into the deepest parts of Highgarden, secured to a series of rooms which held easy access to the servants tunnels that could lead them out of the castle, as well as a handful of loyal Tyrell knights with strict orders to keep Alerie focused on the children, particularly Willas, who while but a child, wished to fight for the glory of his house. So she had a servant bring him books on war: A History of Battles, War: Fight, Win, Conquer, The Conquests of King Aegon the First and so on. Better that he learn the tactics before attempting to wield live steel, especially at his age.

She was going over the records of the Reach, an army was only as good as it's stomach, after all, when a knock sounded at her door. "What?" Olena had made it clear she did not wished to be disturbed until the next meal time and her still warm tea proved that it was not yet time for anyone to bother her, yet still, someone had knocked.

The door burst open so hard it slammed into the wall with a rattle as Euron Greyjoy swaggered in, chest puffed up so much so one might expect him to be airborne. "Olena, my favorite queen!" He was a young man, barely out of his teens, she could easily be his mother, yet he still tried to flirt with her. Perhaps he thought it would endear him to her, but it only annoyed her incessantly. Her husband had rode himself off a cliff chasing a hawk, perhaps Euron could sail off the edge of the world after they had won the war.

"Euron, my least favorite subject." She was no true queen, she had no desire to rule over the seven kingdoms, not publically at least. Should her granddaughter prove to be a beauty however, a crown could be bought for her. Yet still, Olena was the Queen of Thorns, able to wind her rose garden into any house and twist until the pricks bled them to death. "Well?"

His smirk only grew wider as he raised his hand with a flourish, revealing multiple rings with precious stones on each of his fingers. "The guards fell ill from the poisoned wine, the common folk from the shit filled water, we left a skeleton guard at the castle, as ordered. Lannisport was easy to take and the crew was very pleased to have second tier Lannisters as salt wives." The minor branch of house Lannister lived in Lannisport, a prideful bunch who spent time on the sea, though now the women would find themselves below deck in a crueler captain's quarters, she did not envy nor pity them, for the head of their house had sealed their fates when he killed her son.

"I have no desire to hear of the whores you have taken to your bed, Euron." She quipped, "I want to know about the gold, the grain, the state of the army." The Reach had been divided, the green and red Fossoways splitting alliances, houses throughout the land raising armies, some to defend their homes and others to avenge their fallen lord and warden.

"We have ten thousand men on a hundred ships ready to be added to yours, ready to sail to King's Landing while yours march there." Euron boasted, "With the added gold from the Rock, more ships are being built, my nephews have commandeered the flagships of the Lannister fleet, ready to mock the Lion with his own finery."

Olena smiled toothily, plans and plots coming together in her mind, "My men shall march towards the capital, Tywin will no doubt meet us in the open field where the Crownlands, Riverlands and the Reach meet, but your men, they shall sail elsewhere, further into the Riverlands."

"The Riverlands? Why the fuck would I attack some fish when there's a lion whore in the capital?" He had glimpsed at Alysanne Lannister before, seen her portraits hung at Casterly Rock, he wanted her, wanted to make her his wife and fuck her before her father before he killed the once proud lion king.

"Because they killed my only son, my favorite son." The latter was a lie, but no matter, "Diana Targaryen's favorite son is lord of Harrenhal, I have it on good authority he has been sent to hide away in his castle, I want you to sail up Blackwater Rush and take it from him, you can even name yourself lord of it, but bring me Daemon Lannister's head to dip into wax to present before that bitch."

He grinned at that, perhaps Alysanne would like to be taken before her brother's head as well.

A/N:

Little war update, also, Harrenhal is important, if you'd like a hint as to why, check out Diana's conversation with Maggy the Frog in chapter 42

Also, I'm looking for a Beta Reader to correct my grammar mistakes and help me with plot lines in my three fanfictions (A Lion and a Dragon, A Pact of Ice and Fire and Daughter of Divinity), please review or PM if you'd like to help!


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